


Debt Makes Promises

by brandyllyn



Category: Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 47,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyllyn/pseuds/brandyllyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you want?”</p><p>He tsked lightly under his breath, “You don’t get to ask any more questions. I do this for you, and you will do whatever I ask you to, yes or no?”</p><p>“I won’t break the law.” She stated firmly.</p><p>He laughed, a dangerous sound that sent a chill up her spine he could feel, “You don’t have a choice. Yes or no?”</p><p>He held his breath as he waited for her answer and hers hitched as she replied, “Yes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Spanish is pretty rusty so please let me know if you see something quite wrong.

The lights of the nightclub pulsed along to music that no one was listening to. This music was never meant to be listened to, not in a place like this. It was meant to be felt in your bones. The people in the club moved their bodies to the bass and the beat of their own hearts.

In a corner of the club, ensconced away on a sofa that had seen better days, Nevada Ramirez guided the hand of the girl next to him to the front of his pants. She was eager and young and just the right amount of stupid to think that when he gave her a taste of what he sold it meant anything other than good business sense and perhaps a quick fuck later. He pushed her hand more firmly against his cock and lowered his mouth to trace his tongue along the edge of her dress. He groaned a little as she palmed him - lust but with a twinge of boredom. Another night, another club slut willing to fuck her way to some free drugs. He didn’t really mind, pussy was pussy after all, but he did wish that maybe something could be different. Even the “Tengo ganas,” she whispered into his ear sounded like it was being read from a script. Next it would be, “Hazme el amor” or even just “Fuck me” if she was feeling bold. 

He’d heard it all a hundred times.

A commotion pulled his eyes and lips from the neck of the girl next to him and to a woman pushing her way past men easily twice her size. Well, attempting to anyway, neither of his guards were giving any ground to her - as they should. “Let me through!” she growled, loud enough for him to hear and using her elbow to push Joaquin out of her way. Nevada met the other man’s eye and nodded his head, allowing her to come through. The woman’s skin was flushed and she was visibly furious which was intriguing.

Her tattered jeans and sneakers stuck out from the sparkling dresses and shiny jewelry of the people around her and her unzipped sweatshirt was covering what looked like a several sizes to big shirt. His eyes made their way to her face watching as she angrily pushed a pair of black framed glasses her up her nose. None of it should have been sexy, Nevada liked his women slutty and well-maintained, but she was practically shaking in anger and Nevada shifted a little in his seat, his half of an erection growing harder as he watched her.

Angry women were practically his fetish, and that fact had never ended particularly well for him. The last girl who he laid claim to left him a nasty black eye when she threw an ashtray at him in the middle of a fight. He’d fucked her against the kitchen wall while the taste of his own blood mingled on their tongues and left her the next morning with a handful of bills and the warning to never call him again. Angry was sexy, passion was sexy, but crazy was just crazy and he knew himself well enough to know that crazy grated on his nerves too quickly to be worthwhile. Now this woman, she definitely wasn’t crazy although her current actions might suggest otherwise. 

A heavy envelope hit him in the chest, startling him from his reverie. He hadn’t even seen her arm move. “You are done with Emmanuel Perez.”

He tried to place that name as he picked the envelope up, feeling the edges of the contents with his fingers. Keeping his tone level he didn’t bother to acknowledge her rage, knowing it would only make her madder. He had spent a lifetime learning how to piss people off with the simplest expression and he let his single eyebrow raise show his utter nonchalance as he asked, “And you are?”

She seemed taken aback by the question, “Me? I’m…” she shook her head, a long ponytail flashing into sight momentarily, “That- it doesn’t matter who I am, what matters is Emmanuel - you leave him alone. He’s a smart kid he doesn’t need to be getting involved with you or your _business_.” The way she said the last word made it sound like a curse. Her chest was heaving with her anger and he idly wondered what her tits looked like under those ugly clothes.

“Cuchura,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees and letting the envelope dangle from his fingertips, “I don’t know who this person you are talking about is, but I never turn away someone who wants to do _business_.” He twisted the word himself, not into a curse but into something darker and more seductive.

“He is _twelve years old_.” Her hands were clenching into fists at her sides and he mused for a moment about what they’d feel like tangled in his hair, “He is smart and talented and he is so much better…..” Taking a deep breath she visibly calmed herself. She gestured towards the package in his hand, “That’s all of your…. stuff. Just,” she seemed to search for the right words, “stay away from him.”

Nevada laughed as he stood up, a low dark sound that made the girl next to him cringe back against the cushions of the tatty nightclub sofa. He dropped the envelope on the low table as he rounded it and came to stand in front of the irate woman. He lifted his finger and traced his knuckle up the edge of her zipper, lightly skimming over the swell of her breast. “And what if I don’t? What then, eh?”

She stood her ground as he crowded close to her, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. He liked that, liked that her breath became short as he pressed the tips of his fingers against the pulse at the base of her neck. Her heart was racing and he smiled. Whether it raced from fear or lust it didn’t really matter to him. For a moment, as her gaze narrowed into slits, he though she might punch him.

“Leave. Him. Alone.” She bit out each word, her throat working against his fingertips, before spinning on her heel. He was standing so close that her shoulder pushed him back a half inch as she turned and slid through his guards and back out to the dance floor. He didn’t bother to stop her but followed, no where near done with her. She was pushing her way through the dancers who, as the night went on, were turning the club from a dance venue into something more carnal. A man slid a hand down her back as she pushed by, gripping her ass and pulling her up against his sweaty body. When she stomped on his foot, he pulled the same hand back as though to strike her. Instead of ducking, or running, or any of the perfectly sane things a woman might do she met him head on, flinching back slightly but berating him loudly. Although not loud enough to be heard over the bass line.

Nevada stopped next to her left shoulder, standing close enough to her that she could feel his breath against her hair. Meeting the eye of the man in front of them, he could feel his own features harden and the edge of his upper lip twitch. He knew what he must look like, and the true fear that flashed across the other man’s face as he recognized Nevada was gratifying. The other man backed away immediately, trying to lose himself into the crowd as he raised his hands up in supplication and apologies spilled from his lips. 

The woman turned her head as though to acknowledge him but stopped before meeting his eyes. He watched her jaw clench and unclench and he licked his lower lip as his imagination ran wild with the things she might do with that mouth. She didn’t say anything though, sliding abruptly through the remaining people between her and the door and quickly taking the steps down and onto the sidewalk outside.

The chill air hit her hard and she shivered as she pulled the zipper of her sweatshirt up and stuffed her fists into the pockets, turning to walk quickly down the street. Nevada caught the door before it could close, following her out into the night and barely noticing his crew fanning out behind him.

“And where are you going muñequita?”

She barely turned to him, didn’t slow, as her eyes scanned the street. “Away from here. Away from _you_.”

He chuckled at that, “Now now, don’t be like that. You came to me. You _demanded_ things of me.” He hooked his thumbs against the edges of his pockets as he slid up next to her, regarding the profile of her face as he watched her studiously avoid meeting his eyes. “What makes you think that you can come to my turf and treat me like that? Have you no respect?” At the last word he stepped in front of her, blocking her way with his shoulder.

Her eyes flicked up to his as she stopped. For a moment he saw the uncertainty there. _Good_ , he thought smugly. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. Please. I don’t-“ she hesitated, “I just want him to be safe. Just for a little while longer.” She turned her head to meet his stare and he wondered who Emmanuel Perez was to her.

He reached out with deceptive casualness to catch at the strings that dangled from the hood of her sweatshirt and pull her around to face him squarely.Leaning down so his nose nearly touched hers he smirked, “Emmanuel can be safe, for now,” at her relieved sigh his smirk deepened, “but you will owe me amorcita. A favor we can call it.” He wrapped the strings in his fist, pressing his knuckles against her throat. He gently blew hot breath against her cheek as he bent lower to whisper into her ear. “Do you understand what that means?”

She wasn’t angry anymore which should have cooled his lust, but instead he was imagining the favors she might do for him. On her knees, in his bed… he was so caught up in his fantasies he almost missed her reply. “What do you want?”

He tsked lightly under his breath, “You don’t get to ask any more questions. I tell my boys to leave little Emmanuel alone, and you will do whatever I ask you to, yes or no?”

“I won’t break the law.” She stated firmly.

He laughed, a dangerous sound that sent a chill up her spine he could feel, “You don’t have a choice. Yes or no?”

He held his breath as he waited for her answer and hers hitched as she replied, “Yes.”

He pulled back, behind her glasses her eyes were closed. She took a shuddering gasp and opened them, meeting his eyes with steely grey. “Once.” At his raised eyebrow she clarified, “You said I will owe you a favor. _A_ favor.”

He smiled at that, “Of course.” He was all charm now, untangling his fingers from her shirt. He patted the front, taking pleasure in the way her eyes narrowed. “We haven’t been properly introduced, Nevada Ramirez.”

She eyed the hand he held out suspiciously before taking it in her own. Her fingers were cold against his. “Sofia.” Pointedly not providing a last name she jerked her hand back, stuffing it into the pocket of her shirt again.

He stepped away, gesturing to the blocky man behind him. “Javier will take you home - don’t argue you don’t have a choice.” He added as she opened her mouth to protest. He heard her teeth click as she shut her mouth and backed away a few steps from him before turning to follow Javier to the Escalade parked at the curb. 

As the vehicle pulled away he grinned to himself. Drug runners were a dime a dozen, easy to find and easier to replace. But that kind of woman - with that air of wholesome untouchableness? They avoided his world and the people in it like the plague. And were _much_ more valuable.

It was shaping up to be an interesting night after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sofia banged her head against the door in the small restaurant bathroom. “Stupid stupid stupid,” she mumbled to herself. She pulled back and looked at her reflection in the mirror across from her. “You are an idiot.” She nodded, agreeing with her reflection who, while harsh, spoke the truth. Her life had become a series of monumental fuck-ups and she had taken to reminding herself every so often lest she forget and do something even _stupider_.

“Sofia?” a voice called from outside, “Are you okay in there?”

She straightened, tucking a stray length of her brown hair behind her ear, “Yes, I’m okay. I’ll be out in a minute.” Muffled by the door, Sofia didn’t hear what the woman said next. “What?”

“Valeria just seated some people in your section. I’ll get them waters but you need to come out.”

“Okay.” 

She looked into the mirror one last time, fixing her glasses against the bridge of her nose. She wished she could afford contacts but with no insurance and Abuelita in the hospital again there was no way that was going to happen. She smoothed her hand over the white apron, the light blue starched skirt of the dress underneath scratching her thighs. She pulled at the long sleeves she wore, tugging the cuffs down over her wrists. Thirty-five hours a week at the restaurant and another forty in odd jobs in the neighborhood were keeping her and her grandmother alive. For the moment. 

 _It could be worse,_ she reminded herself, _it could always be worse_. 

* * *

Oh god it was worse.

Sofia backed through the kitchen doors quickly, holding her order book in front of her like a crucifix as she muttered “Hijo de _puta_.”

“I can’t take that table.” She vehemently whispered to Camila who was placing full water glasses onto a tray.

“What are you talking about girl?”

“No no no, I’ll trade you anything. I’ll pick up the entire counter, I’ll cover you shift anytime you want, you can have all of my tips from today, just don’t make me go out there.”

Camila shook her head, muttering about young people these days as she shoved the tray of drinks into Sofia’s hands, “You’re crazy girl. Go take their order, they’ve been waiting ten minutes for you.”

Sofia steadied herself on the near side of the swinging kitchen doors. Through the small round window she could see the four men sitting at the corner table. Two shoulder to shoulder facing her, one on the other side but with his chair scooted to the end to make room for the man sprawled next to him. That man, he held the edge of his menu up almost insolently. He was taking up the space on his side of the table as though he owned it, owned the rights to the floor and the air. Even from the back she’d know him anywhere.

She hadn’t seen him since that night, weeks ago. Not a word from him about the mysterious favor she now owed him. As far as she could tell he was keeping up his end of the bargain. Emmanuel hadn’t shown up with any mysterious packages, no unexplainable pocket change, and he seemed to be filling his time with the normal kid things that someone his age should be doing. It had all worked itself out and she had been content to hope that maybe the man sitting out there had forgotten all about her.

After taking a moment to ascertain that the ground was not going to open up and swallow her she took a deep breath and forced her chin up. She refused to be scared of Nevada Ramirez. If she was going to have to go out there and talk to him then she could take refuge in the brusqueness that came with her line of work.

“Four waters,” she stated, passing them onto the table without meeting anyone’s eye. She pulled out her order book, flipping it open, and raised one eyebrow as she held her pen ready. “Are you ready to order?”

Nevada’s gaze flicked from her back to the menu dismissively, before rising slowly back to hold her gaze. The edges of his mouth curled up into a smile that would have been handsome if it didn’t hold an edge of danger to it. She kept her face blank, holding her eyebrow up like it was armor. 

“And here I thought we would not be so lucky.” His smile faded as he bit his lower lip, his expression turning carnal. “Had you forgotten me cariño?” 

She ignored the question, “What can I get for you?”

He smiled again, chuckling to himself and obviously recognizing the tactic and not caring at all. The four men placed their order. When he offered his menu to her he held it a moment too long, grinning as she tugged against him.  She retreated to the kitchen, not quickly, but not dallying either. When the order was ready she took care placing it on the table, briefly contemplating flipping the plate of frijoles y arroz into his lap but deciding at the last moment it probably wasn’t worth it. She stayed behind the counter otherwise, taking pains not to look their way. Every time she did she caught him staring at her, he’d converse with the men around him but never take his eyes off of her. 

It was deeply unnerving.

She dropped the check when they finished and then hid in the kitchen when the group got up to leave. It was perfectly cowardly of her and she didn’t care one bit. One of the men stopped and spoke with Valeria at the counter. She cooed to him, stroking a hand down his face while he blushed. Valeria had a son, maybe that was him. Maybe she’d ask. Maybe not.

When the door shut behind the last man she slowly made her way to the table, checking the book to see if they had even bothered to pay. Inside was a single, crisp one hundred dollar bill. Sofia had never actually seen one before, and certainly not at work where her usual tip ran in the two to three dollar range. She stood there stunned for a moment before snatching it up and rushing outside.

She caught him at the curb, at the shiny Escalade that had swallowed her that night. He was laughing at something and she caught his arm - stopping him and swinging him back. His smile was quizzical as he reached up to tilt his sunglasses onto his head. “What?”

“What is this?” she waved the crisp bill in front of his face.

His eyes slid to the man standing next to him and his smile was so oily it practically dripped condescension as he turned his focus back to her. “It’s money. For food.”

“I know what money is, why did you leave so much?”

His face was smug, condescending, and his eyes were boring into hers as he drawled, “I like to reward good service. You should thank me. That would be the polite thing to do.”

She snorted, not noticing that he was inching closer to her, the edges of his coat brushing against her. “The service was terrible, I should know.” 

His eyes were on her hands, on her white-knuckled grip on the money in her fist. “I never said it was for your service today,” his hand came up to cover hers, the other slipped to her neck and he stroked his thumb against her skin.

She stopped breathing. He was close. Too close. How had he gotten so close? She felt like every time she got within ten feet of him she found his hands on her like she was the lodestone to his magnet. She took a step back without thinking, half expecting him to hold onto her, stalk after her. When he stayed she took another step back, and then another. When she turned and fled back into the restaurant it was by no means her proudest moment. His laughter followed her the entire way.

She couldn’t make herself care.


	3. Chapter 3

The streets of the Heights thrummed with activity on the first truly warm evening of the spring. Men played dominos on folding card tables while their wives hung out of the windows above, gossiping with each other and enjoying the warm breeze even as the night turned cooler. Nevada was making his rounds, handshakes and embraces and ‘How’s your brother doing at Riker’s’ as he drifted through the crowds of people. Young men with furtive gazes asked him for more time and he slipped a comforting hand behind their neck, touching his forehead to theirs as he told them the words his father had always pressed on him when he was a boy - “Time is more valuable than money.”

Their confused looks made him laugh and he patted their cheeks, reassuring them that he couldn’t collect on their debts if they were dead, but a missing finger or toe wouldn’t stop someone from earning a dollar here or there right? They should watch themselves, not get into debts they couldn’t repay. Papí Ramirez understood their trouble, he was here for them - right until the moment he wasn’t.

It was work, but by god he enjoyed every minute of it.

At the park, a game of baseball was in full swing, both sides yelling and cat-calling. He made his way through the small crowd, his boys behind him exchanging money and product as he smiled and slid his way to the front. Reaching the fence, he hooked his fingers through, eyes scanning the players for anyone interesting. He saw her almost instantly.

Standing at home plate with a bat slung over her shoulder, she was wearing jeans cut off at the knee and tattered sneakers. Her long-sleeved t-shirt was worn thin across her back and he could see the outline of her bra beneath it. For a moment he imagined himself behind her, running the palm of his hand down her back and over the band down to her ass. He blinked, watching her take a few careless swings towards the pitcher before settling into a stance that made her ass look amazing. She yelled something he couldn’t hear, pointing above the heads of the outfielders. They laughed, yelling back insults and lewd suggestions of what she could do with herself. She smiled, settling back and waiting. When the pitch came, she swung like her life depended on it and he could hear the _woosh_ the bat made in the air as it failed to connect.

The taunts from the fielding team became more colorful.

She pulled her baseball cap down further over her eyes, causing the back to tug her ponytail upwards and set it swinging. His eyes followed it, remembered how those long strands felt in his fist. He missed the second swing, also a strike.

Adjusting himself and running his hand along his stomach, he wondered if they let her play to be nice. There weren’t many other girls out there and she was obviously not very good-

Before he could complete the thought the third pitch flew and he watched as she swung loosely, pulling the bat between her hands to bunt the ball maybe eight feet. She was running before the opposing team had time to process what was happening, stepping onto first base at the same time the catcher caught the ball up. She waved at him insolently from the base and Nevada found himself smiling. Feeling a tap on his shoulder he turned to talk to Manuel about a buy and by the time he turned back she was on third, not ten feet from him, bases loaded, and the man walking up to the plate looked like he could bench press Nevada if he wanted to.

The ball cracked against the bat, flying past the pitcher and second baseman to bounce once and straight into the glove of the center fielder. He threw to second, who tagged his base and quickly threw home, the catcher snatching it out of midair and turning just in time to see Sofia catch him with her shoulder and bowl him over. The ball rolled from his fingers as she landed heavily on home plate.

Her team cheered, their opponents shouting loudly that these were street rules, that kind of shit wasn’t allowed. In the midst of the outcries, she stood up, brushing the dirt from her thighs and smiling. She turned his direction and when their eyes met her smile faltered, freezing on her lips. He gestured with a tilt of his head toward the far end of the park and she nodded, turning back to her team-mates who were defending her rather unorthodox methods.

 

* * *

 

“You play dirty cariño,” he drawled as she turned the corner, leaning against a large boulder.

She shrugged, “I like to win.”

“I can appreciate that. The thrill of victory can be seductive.”

“What do you want from me? What’s the favor?”

He mad a short tutting sound with his tongue, shaking his head as he strolled towards her, hands hanging from his belt. “No no no, this is not about that. Not yet. This is our courtship, our getting to know each other phase. It’s our first date amorcita.” 

She didn’t move as he stepped closer to her, pulling a card from his pocket with a single phone number on it in scrawling handwriting. “This is the most important number you will ever have. You answer it when I call. Entiendes?”

She nodded, reaching to take it from him. He stepped forward, running his thumb into the palm of her hand and trailing his fingers against the outside. Her breath hitched and her eyes flew to his face. He smirked, opening his mouth to comment but was cut off by a kid rounding the corner, running at full speed as he shouted her name.

She turned away from him, her eyes lighting up with pleasure before her face went white. “What are you doing out here?”

“Mamí sent me, she says we have to study before we got to bed. Can you come by and…” he finally saw Nevada over her shoulder and he trailed off uncertainly. “Uh, hi.”

Nevada put on his slickest smile, taking a step up next to Sofia so his shoulder brushed against hers. “You shouldn’t interrupt the adults when they are talking mijo. What’s your name?” 

The kid seemed uncertain but when Sofia didn’t say anything he stepped forward, offering his hand to Nevada. “Emmanuel.”

Ah, so this was Emmanuel. He’d never met the kid, he’d been pretty sure he hadn’t, but he’d seen him around - talking to the runners and mules Nevada employed. He’d expected someone who looked a little more, well, wholesome. For a woman to march into the club and demand he leave the kid alone, he’s expected a cherubic shit with jesus tattooed on his ass - not this shaved head little gangbanger. He shook the proffered hand, his own larger one swallowing the boys.

“I can’t come over tonight Emmanuel, tell your mamí I said I was sorry ok?” Sofia was saying.

The kid nodded, not taking his eyes off of Nevada and obviously reticent to leave them alone together. He backed away slowly until he heard his friends calling his name, then darted off into the night.

“So that is the world-famous Emmanuel, eh? Doesn’t seem like he’d be worth it.”

She whirled on him, apparently forgetting how close they were standing because her breasts brushed against him as she pressed one long finger into his chest. “Emmanuel is none of your concern. That was our deal.”

He reached up and caught her hand, flattening it to him so her palm rested over his heart, the tips of her fingers brushing over his bare skin. “No, I told you I would leave him alone, but you can’t stop me from wondering about the little fuck now can you?” She tugged on her hand, testing if he would release her and he held on just long enough for her to know that it was his choice and not hers.

She stepped away from him, ponytail swinging, and adjusted her glasses on her nose. She looked almost perfectly wholesome and much younger than he remembered. He itched to dirty her up a little. She was still easing away from him, from the feral grin that he knew he was wearing. 

“You come when I call. Remember that.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Meet me at Wright Park.”

Sofia didn’t bother to say hello, she knew who it was and it would have been a meaningless pleasantry. She just sighed as she replied into the phone, “I can’t right now.”

There was an edge to his voice, in her mind’s eye she could imagine his jaw tightening. “You don’t understand, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Be at Wright Park, 173rd and Washington, fifteen minutes.”

“I’m working.”

“You’re not at the restaurant.”

She sighed again, “I have other jobs.”

“They can wait.”

The call dropped, ending as abruptly as it began, and she pressed her forehead against the cool glass in front of her. She knew what she had to do, he would be furious with her if she didn’t go. He’d made that abundantly clear. She could hear the bustle of hospital personnel behind her, the sounds melding together as she watched the blip of the heart monitor in the other room. Blood pressure eighty five over fifty…. too low. But the heart beat was steady. Strong. Abuelita was the strongest woman she knew, her heart was not going to give out. It just wasn’t possible. Her eyes blurred as she stared at the visiting hours sign; she rarely got the time off to be here during acceptable times and she’d be damned before she wasted even a moment of it. She let herself into the room, dragging a chair from the corner to the edge of the bed. She held the fragile hand in hers, feeling the papery skin against her own. 

A few minutes later, she lifted her head from resting on the bed as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. _Him_ , the screen said - she hadn’t bothered to put his name in. She stared at it a long moment before turning it off, tucking it back into her pocket before crying softly into the stiff hospital sheets.

 

* * *

 

When she saw him at the corner bodega she briefly contemplated ducking back out the door. She hadn’t heard from in two days, and while she had missed calls there had been no voice mails left for her to gauge his mood from. 

He hadn’t noticed her yet, he seemed to be scanning the rows of cigarettes from behind his dark glasses and she took a step back, bumping into one his bodyguards. She must have made a noise because Nevada swung his head around. His wide smile seemed predatory as he opened his arms to her. “Ah, my little Sofia, come here, come here.”

She walked towards him hesitantly, barely comprehending as he pressed his lips to each of her cheeks before turning her so she leaned against the counter, his body between her and the door.

“Did you wait for me long?”

She blinked, the question taking her by surprise. She stared back at him, barely making out his eyes behind the dark glasses, and tried to school her expression away from shock. “L-long?” she stuttered.

He reached his hand up, pressing his fingertips against her temple and crowding her against the counter. “I know I got held up, you’re not angry with me are you amorcita?”

She wanted to grab onto the excuse, even started to nod along to his assertion before she caught herself.  She didn’t want to know what would happen if she got caught lying to him. Gulping hard she decided the truth was better. “No. I didn’t go.”

His face turned icy, fingertips sliding into her hair and twisting it into his fist. “I thought I was clear. I told you to be there. I expect you to be where I tell you to.”

She squared her shoulders, ignoring the stinging against her scalp, refusing to be cowed by him, “And I told you I couldn’t make it.”

He stared at her a long moment before pulling her forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. “That’s a good girl.” His anger seemed to have melted away and she thought he looked… amused?

“You knew,” she whispered. “You _were_ there.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched and she regretted the question. He was still standing too close to her and she was suddenly aware of how much _bigger_ he was than her. She was only a couple of inches shorter but his shoulders were wider, making her feel vulnerable to his largeness. His hand was still tangled in her hair and she unconsciously licked her lips, feeling his gaze shift down to watch the wet line her tongue made. Something has shifted in the air and instead of fear pulsing in her blood she felt it move lower, taking up residence between her thighs.

The bell at the door to the bodega rang but he didn’t move when he barked “Out.” He lifted his free hand to remove his sunglasses, his light green eyes meeting hers. “Why do you wear such ugly clothes?” 

She blinked, hard. Of all the things he might have said this one hadn’t occurred to her. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

The corners of his mouth turned down in a frown, the hand in her hair sliding down against her neck to catch at the edge of the soft grey shirt she was wearing. “You are a beautiful woman, you should show that off. Show off your _assets_.” He drew the last word out, pronouncing the _ass_ far more than the _sets_.

“I like my assets how they are.”

He grinned, tongue touching briefly against his top lip, “You like your assets how they are, that’s funny. What if I said I wanted you to wear something else? When you come to meet me you should wear something I like I think. Something sexy.”

She took a deep breath, “I’d say that seems like a pretty stupid use of your favor.”

His grin faltered, “The favor, yes. I haven’t forgotten. You haven’t forgotten.” His fingertip slid against the edge of her shirt, moving down her chest, “Maybe I’ll find some clever way you can pay your debt instead.” His other hand stroked against her hip, pulling her forward as he leaned into her. He dipped his head to kiss her but she turned away. Undeterred, he drug his cheek against hers and chuckled to himself at the raspy sound it made. His lips pressed against her ear, his hips moving softly against hers, “Maybe I’ll let you pay me a few times.”

She tried to hide the shaking intake of breath. He was so big and male, and damn but he smelled good. Like she could spend the day licking him and never get enough. What was _wrong_ with her? His hand curled over her shoulder, holding her as he backed her even further against the counter. His thumb stroked against the long line of her neck as he tilted her head back to meet his eyes.

“Tell me to fuck you.”

The command caught her off guard but she was proud of how steady her voice was, “No.”

“Amorcita,” he crooned down at her, her pulse against his thumb obviously giving her away, “just tell me and we can both enjoy ourselves. There’s no need to dance about around the issue.”

She swallowed and lifted her hands to press between them. Pushing him back she shook her head, “No. I don’t want you.”

His brows drew together and he backed away on his own. “You can keep lying to yourself corazon, but don’t ever lie to me.”

When he was gone, she collapsed back against the countertop, hands covering her face as she tried to steady her nerves.


	5. Chapter 5

Nevada watched her over his menu the next day, rubbing his finger over his lower lip as she moved between the busy lunchtime tables. She was ignoring him, or at least not paying him the kind of attention he deserved. When they had come in, a different waitress had tried to take their order but he had shooed her away with a wave of his hand and the demand she go get the ‘pretty little one’ instead. He watched the older lady tell her and smiled at the angry look she shot his direction.

When Sofia walked up to their table her smile was wide and bright and absolutely fake. “Welcome to Rosie’s Diner, what can I get you started with today.”

He smirked at her, toying with the edge of his menu, “What’s good?” 

She rolled her eyes and breathed deeply. “Everything is good.”

He rocked his head back and forth on his neck, making a big show of being indecisive as he let the other men order before him. “Does this have pepper in it?” He pointed at the menu, purposely obscuring the dish with his finger.

“Which one?”

“This one.”

She leaned over to him, trying to get a look at the menu which he carefully blocked until she rounded to his side with a huff. He looked up at her as he pointed to something random. 

“The lemonade? No.” Her look of bewilderment faded as he ran the back of his hand along the edge of her apron. Hooking one finger under the tie he pulled her closer to him. “Why don’t you just bring me something that will feel good in my mouth.” He watched her pupils dilate and took pleasure in the flush that spread from her neck to her cheeks. She jerked away from him, muttering to herself as she went back to call their order into the kitchen.

Her other section was outside and he watched through the glass as she took the orders of a group of young men. They smiled and flirted with her, young gringos with less money than sense moving into the Heights because they thought it would make them _cool_. His fingers twitched as he watched her crouch down next to a nearby dog, rubbing behind its ears and smiling as its tail wagged. He wasn’t jealous of a damned dog. The men openly ogled her, one of them not even trying to hide how he leaned back to check out her ass as she crouched near them.

His hand tightened around the butter knife. He could kill the man with it. It would be slow and take a while but he knew for a fact that it could be done. When she came back inside he pushed himself away from the table almost without thinking, following her to the back as she entered a storage closet. She didn’t react when he came up behind her. Maybe she hadn’t heard the click of his shoes, or maybe she was expecting him; whatever the case - when he pushed her up against the wall and pressed his cock into her ass her only response was a soft whimper. 

“You flirt with that pendejo in front of me? Show that ass of yours to him so he can drool over you?” He rubbed against her, biting his lip when she pressed her ass to him. “You pushed me away yesterday, today you squirm against me like you’re dying for me. Which is it?” He leaned close to her, running his tongue along her ear as he whispered “Did you go home last night and touch yourself? Did you think of me?” She gasped and he groaned into her hair.

He pulled at her wrists, pressing them above her head and gathering her hands together together in one of his larger ones. His other hand dipped down, crumpling her skirt as he lifted it up. His lips were pressed against her ear, whispering the things he wanted to do to her, the dirty things, the kinky things, the downright filthy things she’d probably never even imagined two people could do. When he’d lifted her skirt high enough he slipped his hand under, feeling bare skin and, _jesus_ , was that a….?

“Mierda, are you wearing garters?” he panted into her ear now, anger vanishing in a tide of lust, slipping his finger under the strap running along the back of her thigh, sliding down to the tops of her stocking and then up - stopping just under the dip of her ass where the belt connected. “Did you wear these for me cariño?” When she only moaned low in response he snapped the elastic against her thigh, hard. “Did you?”

She paused before gasping, “No.”

She was lying. They both knew it but he didn’t care. He spun her around, lifting one of her thighs to hook over his hip, pushing her skirt up so he could look down and see the strap lying against her skin. His other hand cupped her jaw, holding her face as he leaned his body into the cradle of her thighs. They both watched his fingers trace against her, slowly making patterns against her fevered flesh as he pressed higher and higher. When he raised his eyes, it was to find her watching him. He leaned in to press his mouth to hers.

“Is this the favor?” she asked quietly, pulling him up short.

His mind was foggy. “What?” he bit out.

She looked him dead in the eye. “Is this my favor?”

His hand on her jaw tightened and he briefly contemplated strangling her. “No. This is just fun.”

“Then let me go.” Her voice was firm, but as he rubbed his cock against her and tightened his grip on her thigh he could feel her small movements in response. Her body wanted him, even as she tried to convince him otherwise.

His hand on her thigh moved down, dipping beneath her panties until he could slip his fingers into her pussy. Unable to help the self-satisfied tone in his voice as he said, “You’re practically dripping for me dulzura, I don’t think I need to call in my favor, do I?”

His mouth was pressed against her ear, his fingers sliding through her cunt one moment - the next his shoulders were bouncing off the door opposite her.

“I’m not your whore,” her hands pressed flat against the wall behind her, fingernails scratching against the paint as she stared at him. Her high ponytail had come loose, dropping strands of hair across her face. She was flushed and a little unfocused, her glasses askew on her nose - she looked like she’d just been fucked.

Nevada briefly considered shoving her back and just finishing what he’d started. She’d let him, or at least not fight him too much. The stickiness on his fingers was proof of that. But he wanted her to be his, not just for a night but for a week or a month. What he wanted was to hear her beg him, see those big eyes plead with him and those lips tremble as she asked him to fuck her. That was the fantasy, not a quick fuck against the walls of this closet - not when she could tell herself tomorrow that he’d made her do it, forced himself on her. So instead, he grinned, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick from the base to the tip of his fingers, resting them against his bottom lip. “You can keep lying to yourself all you want amorcita, but I know better. You want me to fuck you. You want my big cock to stretch your tight little pussy. You want to be used.” Her eyes had glazed over again and he chuckled to himself. He took a small step forward, watching to see if she would flinch away from him. She didn’t. 

“On your knees with your ass in the air for me. Or with my cock on your tongue, fucking your face.” She swallowed at that and he watched the muscles in her throat move. “You want me, and it’s driving you crazy. Just give in, it can be so,” he pressed against her again, this time just his hips and he smiled when she met the motion with her own turning his last word into a low growl, “ _good.”_ He laid his palms flat to the wall on either side of her head, not moving anything but his hips as he stared down into her face. “Let yourself go cariño, I’ll take care of you. Just tell me, tell me you want it baby. _Tell me_.”

Her hands tangled in the chain of the cross around his neck and she whimpered as she pulled him closer, pressed her mouth against his. _Fuck_ this was it. No denial, no reservation, just her hot mouth on his. Her lips were soft, almost uncertain, and he wondered how many men she’d ever done this with. He left his hands on the wall - he didn’t want her to have any excuses tomorrow about what was happening. Tomorrow she would have to admit to herself that this was all _her_ doing, not his. After a long minute though, Nevada had had enough teasing and he parted his lips to deepen the kiss - tongue fuck her like he’d been wanting to since he first saw her. Instead, he felt her tongue, lightly tracing his lips before slipping into his mouth. He groaned, or maybe she did, and there was no mistaking the way her hands wound around his neck - holding him like he was a lifeline.

They kissed for minutes, maybe hours. He heard someone come through the door behind them but ignored it and they quickly left. Sofia never even noticed. She just continued to kiss him, making little noises in her throat as she bit and licked and sucked and Nevada could have stayed there forever. When they finally broke apart he was surprised to find his own breath coming in short pants. “Come to me tonight.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.”

“You want to, you know you want to. Come to me tonight and I’ll fuck you til you can’t walk straight. I’ll be the best you ever had, I promise you that.”

Her voice was quiet but strong when she replied, “No.”

His anger flared, “Keep pushing me cariño and I may not always be so nice.” The lust drain from her face as she flinched back from him. He cursed quietly and spun away, pushing through the door of the small supply closet and out into the restaurant - not caring that everyone could see the bulge his cock was making against the front of his pants.

“Vamanos,” he growled, not bothering to stop as he strode out the door, leaving his men scrambling to catch up. He’d find someone else - someone who wouldn’t need to be coaxed or threatened. Someone warm and primped who smelled like perfume instead of lemons and sucked him off without making him feel like a monster. 

Maybe this time he wouldn’t pretend the girl was her either.


	6. Chapter 6

Sofia juggled the groceries in her arms, trying to answer her phone without dropping anything. _Him_ it said. She groaned, answering it with a terse, “What?”

“That is no way to speak to me pet. Try again.”

She sighed, leaning against the wall of the stairwell, “Good afternoon?”

“That’s better. I need you tonight. One of my girls will come to your apartment to get you ready. She’ll help you find something… suitable to wear.”

Before she could ask her next question he cut her off, “Don’t even think about saying it. Yes, this is _part_ of your favor. There’s people I need you to meet.”

She clenched her jaw, watching the young family walk past her on the stairs. “What time should I expect her?”

“Eight.”

He hung up and she slipped the phone into one of the bags, walking up the last two flights and knocking at the first door. The old man who answered smiled at her, motioning her in and telling her how great it was to see her, was her mother around? She smiled back at him, not bothering to correct his mistake. As far as she knew his wife had been dead for years, his daughter had moved to Florida and paid Sofia via direct deposit to buy his groceries and check in on him. She unpacked the bags, chatting with him as she checked the time. Less than four hours to finish her errands for the day. She sighed.

 

* * *

 

 The woman who showed up to her apartment a little after eight was only a couple of years younger than her. Her bright orange dress set off her dark skin and she had shiny crystals threaded into the braids of her hair. Her lips and eyes were painted bright colors that should have looked garish but made her features stand out instead. She was stunningly beautiful and Sofia felt herself defensively trying not to stand too close to her. Even though there was no one there to see she knew she would not look good with the comparison.

“You must be Sofia,” the woman chirped brightly, hauling a large bag with her and stepping past Sofia and into the apartment. Sofia closed the door behind her, about to answer but the woman continued without pausing, “I’m Chaz. Nevada says you’re going out tonight and he needs you to make an entrance.” Dropping the bag on Sofia’s dining table Chaz turned to her, propping her hands on her hips as she slowly looked Sofia up and down. She tsked, reaching behind her to unzip the bag and pulling out clothing. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted a man on this. ‘About your size’ my ass.” She pulled out a top, holding it in front of her and regarding Sofia before shaking her head. “Honey, if I had tits like yours I could make a fortune.”

Sofia didn’t know what to say so she just stood in the middle of her apartment silently.

“Of course, I make a fortune anyway. You’re lucky. I don’t usually do this sort of thing but Nevada, he and I go way back.” She held up a skirt this time, pausing thoughtfully before placing it in a different pile than the top had gone to. “How do you know Nevada?”

Sofia paused before answering, “He uh, he did something for me. I owe him a favor.”

Chaz stopped what she was doing, turning to Sofia with something like sympathy in her eyes, “Oh _honey_. Then we need to find you something _extra_ special tonight.” She dug to the bottom, pulling out a piece of fabric that shimmered silver in the light of the apartment. “Ah ha!” she crowed, tossing it to Sofia, “Go put that on.”

Sofia looked at the scrap of fabric, “Where’s the rest of it?”

The look Chaz gave her was bemused as she shooed her into her bedroom with the dress.

Once on, Sofia re-evaluated her original assessment. ‘Dress’ actually felt like a bit of a stretch. ‘Particularly wide belt’ seemed closer to the truth. She tugged at the top, trying to get it to cover more of her breasts and watched the bottom inch high enough to make her immediately pull it back down.

“Stop fussing with it,” Chaz admonished, rifling through a small bag overflowing with sparkling jewelry. Sofia wondered how much of it was real, and if any was given to her by Nevada. She shook that thought off. She didn’t care.

Turning back to the mirror she tried again to unsuccessfully cover more skin than the dress was designed to. It was strapless and as far as she could tell was being held up by witchcraft and her own sheer force of will. It wouldn’t be so bad, but the body hugging style meant that any underwear under it would be immediately visible. That didn’t really matter to Sofia, but Chaz seemed to think that it meant one should just go without - and when Chaz told you how to wear something she didn’t really leave room for argument. God, one wrong move and she’d fall out of the thing in every direction.

Chaz walked up behind her, holding a pair of large hoops to Sofia’s ears. “Nevada is going to come in his pants when he sees you,” she giggled.

“That’s really not the reaction I’m hoping for.”

The other woman snorted, pulling Sofia over to the table and picking up the curling iron nearby. “Bullshit, the safest man is the one head over heels for you. You could have Nevada following you around like a puppy if you wanted.” She paused, letting one long curl fall over Sofia’s shoulder. “Why don’t you?”

Sofia didn’t have an answer.

Chaz shrugged after a long moment, picking up her chatter as though nothing had happened. “How well do you see without your glasses?”

“Well enough. I mean, I can tell who people are, mostly, and I won’t fall down a set of stairs or anything.”

“Fantastic. Now, let’s talk about lipstick. I’m thinking red…”

 

* * *

 

The nightclub was different than the one from two months ago, but no less loud. Chaz led her by the hand through the people, easily flirting her way through the crowded bar as Sofia did her best to keep up behind her in the three inch heels she had insisted on. She thanked her lucky stars she’d talked Chaz out of the five inch. At a heavy curtain, Chaz stopped - going to her toes to whisper something into the ear of the man standing in front of it. When he turned away, she leaned back to Sofia, “God I love a man with nice arms.” Sofia bit back a giggle. 

After a moment, the man opened the curtain for them and Chaz pulled Sofia into the slightly quieter room beyond. It was another bar, higher end labels on the shelf, filled with men talking quietly to each other as they smoked large cigars and watched the colorfully dressed women strutting about. Sofia felt out of place until she realized that the looks she was getting weren’t condemning, but appreciative. Thank the lord, whatever Chaz had done had worked miracles and for once she actually felt like she fit in. She sighed in relief, scanning the room for a his face.

Nevada was leaning against the bar, deep in conversation with someone slightly older than him. He hadn’t looked up when they entered and she hesitated, unsure of whether to go to him or not. Chaz took the decision from her, pulling her by her hand to the bar and pushing her gently next to Nevada as she herself slid next to the older man, pressing herself into his side and saying something to him that made him laugh. Nevada’s hand slid around her waist as the other man dismissed himself, following Chaz into a back room.

“I hate to disappoint you tonight but I’m waiting for someone,” he started to pull his hand away but she turned to him at the same moment and he stopped, his fingers convulsively tightening on her back. “Holy fuck, Sofia?” He laughed, “Chaz did a number on you didn’t she? Where are your jeans? Your sneakers?” He paused, turning serious, “Where are your glasses? Can you even see me?”

“Right about,” she leaned closer until her nose was about six inches from his, the dress and the makeup making her feel daring, “ _here_ I can.” She pulled back again and shrugged. “But from here you kind of just get handsomely blurry.”

“Handsome?” Even without her glasses she could see him grin and she blushed, hoping he didn’t notice. He pulled her between his legs, his hands smoothing down the back of the dress to cup her ass. His eyes locked on her deep red lips for a moment before he twisted, pulling her between him and the bar and growling into her ear, “This was a mistake. All these men are looking at you now.” He nuzzled against her neck, “I could kill all of them for even thinking about you.”

That shouldn’t have sounded romantic, but it did and she chastised herself for being a bad person even as she slipped her hands to his shoulders.

“Tonight I need you to play the part of my a little zorra,” he whispered into her neck. She stiffened against him and he soothed a hand down her back. “It’s just a part, just acting cariño. I wouldn’t waste a favor like yours on something so small. But I need you to listen, and I need you to pretend. Can you do that?”

She nodded at him and he squeezed her ass for a moment before looking over his shoulder, “That’s a good girl.” Leading her by the hand he ducked into a small side room where several men sat in low chairs, the smoke of their Habanos clouding the room. Some of the men had women in their laps, or perched on the arm of their chair. Sofia spotted Chaz stretched behind the older man from the bar, her fingers massaging his neck as he spoke in low tones to the man next to him. Nevada crossed to an empty chair, pulling her onto his knee and immediately sliding his hand under her skirt. She froze before she could remember not to, then leaned into the crook of his arm, tucking her hand behind his head and threading her fingers into his hair. His hand was still, resting high on her thigh but not moving. He began talking to the man next to him about product and prices and, for lack of anything better to do, she pressed her lips to the skin behind his ear and made a show of being deeply invested in her exploration.

He ignored her as she shifted against him, her fingernails scratching at his scalp occasionally as she listened to the conversation, trying to memorize the numbers they were discussing without acting too interested. Her eyes drifted around the room only to find another man watching them, a curious and somewhat suspicious expression on his face. Holding his gaze, she flicked her tongue against the sensitive skin behind Nevada’s ear and smiled a small self-satisfied smile when he had to suppress a groan, his hands tightening on her. She felt triumphant for a short second before his fingers moved higher beneath her skirt, thumb gently stroking at the apex of her thighs. 

She could feel his surprise when he realized she was bare beneath the dress, his eyes flicking her direction before pulling her legs higher into the chair with him, ensuring that no one but he knew her secret. She searched out the gaze of the suspicious man again, only to find that his eyes had clouded over with heat as he pulled a petite blonde into his lap. 

The discussion between Nevada and his colleague was getting angrier and after a few minutes more Nevada pulled his hand from her, setting her on her feet away from him.

“Wait for me out at the bar, if anyone asks you’re _mine_ ,” he ordered, his eyes not leaving the other man’s.

She strolled away as nonchalantly as she could, feeling eyes follow her as she went. She went to the bar in the other room, but even there she felt out of place, too noticeable and vulnerable and after only a few minutes she ducked back into the main nightclub. At least out here the men were the kind she knew how to handle. Maybe a little handsier but not likely to kill someone if they didn’t get their way.

At the bar she ordered a straight orange juice and frowned when she realized she didn’t have any money to pay for it. The man next to her laughed, telling her it would be his pleasure as he placed a hand over the glass and passed it her way. She told him it was unnecessary and thanked him when he did it anyway. The juice soothed her parched throat and a few minutes later, when he asked her to dance with him, she really couldn’t think of any reason not to.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time his business was finished Nevada was tired. In the far reaches of his mind a quiet voice whispered that he was getting too old for this, too old for the hands-on work, but he quickly silenced it. He strolled into the private bar but saw no sign of Sofia. Wondering if she had left, even after he had told her to wait, he made his way through the crowded nightclub on the other side - enjoying the way people parted to let him by.

He heard her laugh and stopped, scanning back the way he’d come. He was certain he had never heard that giggly sound before and his fist clenched unconsciously as he searched out whomever had caused it. When he finally saw her, she was sitting practically in another man’s lap. One arm slung over his shoulder as the man slipped his hand under her skirt and whispered into her ear.

Nevada saw red and he was across the room with his hand around the other man’s throat in a heart beat, lifting him to his feet and barely noticing Sofia spill to the floor next to them. “What the _fuck_ do you think you are you doing?”

The other man gasped for air and Nevada punched him in the face once, twice, his ring leaving bloody marks on the man’s skin. His knuckle split and he heard bone crack beneath him but he barely noticed, kneeing the man in the kidney as he fell. He kicked him on the floor in the gut, taking perverse pleasure in the grunt and cries as the toe of his alligator skin shoes punched into the body in front of him. He drew back, preparing to kick this piece of trash in the head when a furtive gesture caught his attention in the corner of his eye.

Chaz was on the floor, kneeling next to Sofia who was curled into a ball next to the small sofa she’d fallen off of. “Sofia, look at me. Sofia? Can you hear me?” Chaz’s eyes rose to meet his as she frantically gestured him over. His rage turned on the little slut on the floor until he noticed her slow movements, the way she was ineffectually batting against Chaz’s helping hands and her inability to keep her eyes open for longer than a moment.

Turning from the beaten man on the floor he dropped into a crouch beside her and reached out to cradle Sofia’s cheek in his palm, ignoring the blood that streaked against his skin. Her eyelids fluttered open and she nuzzled against his fingers. “Nevada,” her voice was husky and she sighed, reaching a hand up to hold him against her. “I feel strange. Am I drunk? I didn’t drink…” she trailed off, closing her eyes again and slumping against Chaz’s knees.

If Nevada thought he had been mad before, he was a tightly controlled ball of rage now. He turned on the man who was being helped to his feet, anger rolling off him in waves that made the eager spectators around him shift backwards. “Did you give her something?” his voice was cold, emotionless as he rose to his feet.

The other man tried to back away, stumbling over his friends in the process, “It was just a little bit, nothing much, just to get her in the mood.”

Nevada stalked across the floor to him, hands curling into fists, “What did you give her?”

The man seemed to think hard about how he wanted to answer. “Just some X, a little bit of Desi. She’ll be fine.”

Nevada reached for him again, fully intending to kill him with his bare hands - spectators be damned. “Nevada….” behind him, he could hear Sofia call out to him and he turned to find her stretching a hand out in his direction, “… please.” Lowering his fist, he gestured to Joaquin and Miguel and after some muffled conversation between the three of them they nodded, picking the injured man up and carrying him into the back.

Nevada watched them leave with hard eyes before crossing the floor, kneeling to wrap Sofia’s outstretched arm around his neck and lifting her to his chest. Whatever was in his eyes parted the crowd before him without a sound.

Outside, he barked terse orders to bring his car around as Chaz pestered him with questions. His eyes were focused on Sofia who was nuzzling against his neck and making incoherent noises. Her fingers had twined into the hair at the back of his head and he could feel her lips against his skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed as the Escalade pulled up to the curb. He gently placed Sofia into the back seat, watching her lean up against the door as it closed, pressing her forehead to the cool window. He walked around to the other side, slamming the door as he told the driver “Mi casa. And keep your eyes on the road.”

Once they were moving, Nevada reached over, unsure if Sofia was conscious. At the touch of his hands on her she turned into his arms - hands seeking and clutching at his shirt. “Kiss me,” she demanded, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling his face down to hers. He moaned, complying almost against his will. One hand went to her hip, digging into the flesh until he could practically feel her bones, the other tangling into her hair, the softness slipping between his eager fingers.

Her mouth was hot against his, her tongue darting inside playfully and then stroking against his own in a rhythm that made him hard. She nibbled his lower lip, sucking on it until he groaned into her mouth and she covered it, licking the sound from between his teeth. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt as her mouth trailed along his jaw to his ear. Stroking against his skin she pulled on his earlobe softly with her teeth for a moment before sucking on it. He jerked against the seat, the sensation traveling directly from his ear to his cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered again, sliding his hand up to cup her breast. When his thumb brushed her nipple she pushed at him, throwing one leg over his thighs until she was straddling him in the back of the car. Her hands held his head still while she kissed him, her pussy pressing against him in rhythm. God she was wet, wet enough that he could feel it through his pants. He clutched at her hips, holding her still as he jerked his mouth from hers.

“Sofia,” he gasped, scrambling to find his control, “you’re high.”

“I don’t care,” she replied, leaning in again to kiss him. He turned away from her, closing his eyes and praying for strength and she pressed her lips to his neck instead, sucking on a spot there that made him jerk against her. She moaned at the feeling and he felt the vibrations through his whole body.

God he was fucked. She’d been drugged, had no idea what was happening, the Desi had turned her sex drive up to a thousand and she’d probably dry hump a cactus if that as all that was available. But _he_ was available, and more than willing, so what was his fucking problem?

Apparently, the problem was that he actually did have a conscience. It was quiet and out of practice but it was quite clear that if he fucked her in the back of the car like she was literally begging him to - _te necesito, quédate conmigo esta noche_ , _cojeme -_ then he was going to regret it. He knew he could make her want him - without drugs, without lies or coercion. He _knew_ he could have her when she was in her right mind - with her glasses perched on her nose and her eyes not clouded over. That’s what he wanted - he wanted her clear and focused and screaming his name. And if he fucked her right here, unzipped his pants and - _jesus_ she needed to stop that twist to her hips - let her ride him until they both came, odds were pretty good that she’d never let him do it again

“Mierda.” He pressed his hands to her cheeks, staring into her face, memorizing the look of pure lust. She whined, high in her throat - not understanding why he wasn’t touching her where she needed him to. He pulled her leg over him and lifted her quickly, sitting her across his lap and wrapping his arms around her to hold her still. “No no belleza, shh. I’m not going to fuck you, shh,” he crooned into her hair. His voice sounded strained even to his own ears, “Be still, Papí is here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She couldn’t keep quiet and squirmed against him, clutching at his arms until she dragged his hand under the edge of the scrap of fabric she was calling a dress. Pressing his fingers into her as she moaned against his neck. He couldn’t help it, she was so wet and he was _so_ willing. His fingers slid against her pussy, delicately pressing and gliding until he found the spot that made her arch back over his other arm. He watched her for a moment, slack jawed and eyes glazed as she stared at a spot over his shoulder and moved her hips against his fingers.

“Say my name,” his gaze was steady on hers.

She blinked at him, her eyes meeting his in the darkness of the car. “Nevada,” she said with a confused look, and then she sighed, slipping her fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth down to hers as she moaned “Nevada” into his mouth over and over again until she came. Then she screamed it.

He never even considered taking her anywhere but his apartment; laying her under the blankets of his own bed. He left her some water and a trash bin, and then left for the night. He had business to take care of - and Nevada took careful pride in cleaning up his own messes.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Sofia awoke slowly. The room was dark and unfamiliar, the morning sunlight doing little to relieve the gloominess. She sat up, trying to place where she was. The sheets were soft against her legs, easily triple the thread count of her own. Pressing a hand to her head, her every movement felt as though she was encased in wool. Her mouth was dry and she searched around for water. The glass next to the bedside was a godsend and she downed it in a few gulps. Swinging her legs out of the bed, she stood up unsteadily, tugging the sagging edge of her dress upwards as she wandered to the closed door.

The other room was brighter, leather furniture glaring almost obscenely in the morning light. Her eyes scanned the space, from the kitchen to the floor to ceiling windows and found it empty as well. Where was she?

She ducked back into the bed room, wandering to the closet. Row upon row of black, peppered occasionally with slate grey and crisp white button downs met her eyes. Jesus Christ, this was Nevada’s apartment. It had to be. But where was he?

Her retreat into the bathroom showed her a raccoon with a bird’s nest for hair and she was suddenly quite thankful that she had woken up alone. Muttering to herself she twisted what she could of her hair into a bun, using an empty pen casing on the counter to hold it in place. She tucked the ends in before scrubbing her face until her cheeks were pink. Squinting, she ran a hand along her jaw - her skin seemed tender and abraded and she had a flash of memory of rubbing her cheek against sharp stubble. She gripped the sink basin, memories of the night before coming back in bits and pieces. 

“Oh my god,” she groaned, a humiliated flush creeping up her neck. Had she really begged him to fuck her? Rubbed against him like a cat in heat? She could vividly remember how his skin felt under her fingers, the whorls of the hair on his chest. She’d sucked at his skin, tasted the salt. But had they…?

She didn’t think they had. She didn’t feel sore… down there, and she felt sure she would have remembered it if they had. But if that was true then she felt that she was missing something vital from her understanding of the night.

After a few moments of silent negotiation with herself she tugged Chaz’s dress down her hips into a fairly modest approximation of a skirt. It was tight but at least hit at her knees. Flicking through his closet, she pulled one of his black button down shirts from the hangar. His shoulders were wider than hers but the buttons still strained a bit across her chest and she rolled the cuffs up to keep them from swallowing her hands. She found her shoes at the end of the bed and tiptoed to the front door.

“Sweet Mary mother of god,” she yelped, the man on the other side looking as startled as she did. He collected himself first and motioned her into the hallway, “Nevada wants to see you as soon as you woke up.”

“What time is it?” she asked, following him to the elevator.

“Just past noon.”

 

* * *

 

The building he brought her to had seen better days, a few windows broken and with weeds growing in the cracks of the sidewalk. It looked exactly like the kind of building she would have imagined a drug kingpin to work out of and the thought made her giggle. The driver, Stefan, offered to carry her into the building when he noticed she was still carrying the high heels Chaz had loaned her but she demurred. Walking lightly on the balls of her feet she tiptoed into the building, then up the stairs at the direction of one of the men in the room.

There was one door upstairs, and she tapped lightly on it before letting herself in. Nevada was standing behind a large desk, one hand on his hip and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He didn’t acknowledge her when she entered, his hand flipping through some documents. After a few moments of silence he finally glanced upwards, pulling the cigarette from his lips and setting it down as he crossed from behind the desk.

“Good morning beautiful, did you sleep well? How is your head?”

His hands were on her face, his fingertips massaging against her temple and she closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. She felt like shit and for once didn’t care about what message she might be sending him.

“I’m okay,” she said, still leaning into him, “my head hurts and I think I twisted my ankle at some point but I’m fine.”

She opened her eyes to find him glancing downward, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards. “Is that _my_ shirt?”

She blushed, one hand coming up to clutch the front together where the buttons strained open. “Yes, I’m sorry, I took it this morning so I would have something to wear home but Stefan brought me straight here. I’ll get it back to you I promise.”

“I like you in it,” he growled huskily, running his tongue along his bottom lip, “I think I might like you in only it.” 

Sofia was suddenly very aware that she still wasn’t wearing any underwear, the only thing between him and her skin a skirt that inched up her thighs every time she moved and a soft shirt that smelled like him. That ridiculous aroma that made her mouth water. Her eyes drifted to a bruise on his neck, dark against his skin and only partially hidden by his collar. More memories of the night before, of sucking on that spot and grinding her hips into him. Her gaze flew up only to find him grinning, obviously following her line of thought. He winked slowly at her and her blush deepened.

“How much do you remember?”

She hesitated, “I remember getting a drink, someone pressing up against me. I was dancing maybe, there were hands on me. The things he said to me…” she trailed off at the dark look in his eye and shifted closer, her breasts brushing against his chest. “I remember you, fighting for me. Your hands on me. I remember that you could have done something and didn’t.”

His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head back. His voice was low, rumbling through her as he said, “I could have. But when I fuck you for the first time you’re going to know it’s me doing it. You’re going to scream my name.”

Sofia was pretty sure she had screamed his name the night before but this didn’t seem like the time or place to mention it. He had that heavy look in his eye again that meant that he was about to kiss her.

“I’m going to be late for work,” she whispered, trying to forestall him. Her hands coming between them to rest on his chest. Not pushing him away but creating an illusion of space.

He continued to look at her for a long moment before sighing and stepping back from her. “Tell Stefan to take you home,” he said, crossing back to his desk and picking up the still burning cigarette. He didn’t look up again as she moved to leave, already lost into his work.

“Nevada?”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t actually need me there last night did you?”

He looked up at her from under his eyebrows and shook his head, “No.”

“Then why-?”

“I wanted to see if you’d do as you were told.” She snorted and as she left the room she swore she heard him add, “For once.”

 

* * *

 

Sofia snuck up the stairs to her apartment as quietly as possible, doing her best to avoid the creaky top step as she fumbled with her keys. If she could make it down the hallway no one would need to know that she… “Sofia!” She turned, cheeks burning red and heels dangling from her fingers. God, she’d never had to do the walk of shame before and of course it meant that the nosiest neighbor in the barrio was going to spot her coming home, still a little hungover and still not wearing underwear.

“Sofia, it’s your abuelita.”

She heard her shoes and keys hit the floor before she even became aware she had dropped them, barely listening as Maria Jose tried to pass along the news. She was moving back down the hall before the woman had finished, dimly hearing her yell that she shouldn’t go back out like that. Sofia took the stairs two at a time, flying down them far quicker than she had come up. When she hit the front door, she nearly knocked over the mailman coming in, not even stopping as she yelled her apology back over her shoulder.

She was running as soon as her feet were on pavement. On a normal day it would have taken her twenty minute to get to the hospital, she made it in nine.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Nevada tipped his sunglasses low enough to stare at the man in front of him over the rim. “Tell me that entirely again,” he drawled softly.

The young wannabe gangbanger shrugged, “I’m telling you, I saw your woman running down Audubon. No shoes on, just running like a bat at out hell. Almost hit her with my car man. You need to put a _leash_ on that bitch yo.”

Nevada just stared at him, disbelief written large across his face. “And who, exactly, is that ‘bitch’?”

“Aw you know man,” the teenager reached out like he was going to push Nevada’s arm and then thought better of it. “Sofie Lopez, waitress over on 186th. Everyone’s seen you two around, we know you got a claim on her.”

Nevada turned his head, staring at Stefan even as he directed his next question back to the teenager, “And where was she going?”

“I don’t know man,” the kid shrugged again, his several sizes too big jacket flapping loosely with the motion, “she was heading south - it was at like, what, 179th maybe? I didn’t follow her.”

Nevada dismissed the young man with a flick of his fingers, running his hand along the edge of his belt before pushing his coat back to rest it on his hip. He didn’t say a word, just raised one eyebrow.

Stefan practically babbled in response, “I don’t know what he’s talking about boss, I dropped her off at her building like you told me to. Even waited for her to go inside all safe and sound. I came straight to you after, she must have left after I dropped her off.”

Nevada turned, eyes darting south as he thought about what he’d just heard.

They started at 179th, asking the old man selling fruit if he’d seen a woman run by that morning - possibly without shoes. His response was the same as everyone else’s for the next ten blocks - she had been by yes, like demons were chasing her, barely slowing at the crossings. She’d cut west at 170th and for a bit they lost her trail. Asking around, no one remembered a woman in a silver skirt, although the news agent admitted maybe he’d seen a girl with no shoes on cutting across Duarte Square.

Nevada stared across the street, to the south an ambulance turned on 168th and he followed it with his eyes. New York Presbyterian was that way. Had she been in worse shape than he thought when she had left this morning? Would she have told him? He left his men on watch outside and entered the building.

 

* * *

 

Despite its size, it hadn’t been difficult to find Sofia in the labyrinth of hospital corridors. A woman at the east entrance had remembered the girl with no shoes waiting for the elevator and quick questions at each floor had finally found her on the seventh. The nurse at the station had seemed reluctant about helping him but when he expressed his grave concern about his wife and her lack of shoes she was much more forthcoming, pointing him down the righthand hallway.

The curtain behind the glass window was open, giving Nevada a view of the old lady in the hospital bed nearest it. She was hooked to more machines than he could easily count - the pulse of the heart monitor looked wrong to him, erratic and too slow. Her white hair framed her face and her hand rested on the dark head of the woman curled up next to her. Wearing the same thing he had seen her in that morning, Sofia lay at the foot of the bed, her head on the old woman’s stomach and her fists clutched around the thin blanket. He could barely see the edge of her face but her eyes were rimmed red and he’d lay all the cash he had on him that she had cried herself to sleep there.

He stepped away, he didn’t belong here. This was too personal, too real. He moved to leave and was caught by a young man in a pristine white doctor’s coat.

“Nevada Ramirez, I wouldn’t have expected to see you here.”

He tried to place the face, glancing down to the name badge, “Alejandro Diaz?”

The other man laughed, “It’s Alex now, none of those gringos at med school ever could say it right.” The doctor glanced into the room, “Are you here to see someone.”

“No, just uh,” he hesitated, trying to think of a good reason to be caught staring at an old, obviously dying woman, “looking out for a friend.”

“I thought she looked familiar,” the doctor mused, eyes moving to Sofia on the bed. “I should have recognized your new little zorra when she came in. Nice job.”

Nevada punched him before he even realized his fist was moving, the other man’s head snapping back sharply and hitting the glass with a loud crack.

The activity in the hallway stopped and Nevada looked around him, waiting to see if anyone was going to jump in. Diaz held a hand up to his nose, “Jesus, what did you do that for?”

He shook his head, clearing the red mist that had come over him. “Don’t-“ he started but was interrupted by a soft voice from his right.

“Nevada?” He jerked his head toward the sound and saw Sofia, arms wrapped tight around her middle as she stared at him with tired eyes. “What are you doing?”

He glanced from her to the doctor, trying to decide who to answer first. Diaz took the words from him, holding a hand up to stop the nurse who was walking over to check on him. “I’m okay. Fuck, I should have known better.” He held his hand out to Nevada and Nevada took it slowly, “My bad, no hard feelings man.”

He watched the doctor walk away, making a mental note to do something nice for him. When he turned back to Sofia it was to feel her hands lifting his own, gently running her fingers over the red knuckles. This made twice in two days he’d hit someone for her. “Are you okay?”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him and burying his nose in her hair. “I’ve hit tougher people for less reason. Are you… are you okay?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight to her as she took deep shuddering breaths. “It’s okay. It’s fine. She’ll be okay, she’s just resting.” She was forcing a smile when she pulled back to look him in the eye.

She was lying to him again but he didn’t call her out on it. Sometimes people needed the comfort of the lie. “What do you need?”

She sighed heavily, “I need a shower. I still haven’t been home.”

“Come with me, I’ll take you.”

She nodded against his neck, keeping her arm around his waist as he walked her to the elevator. He didn’t even comment on her bare feet.

 

* * *

 

Over her protests he walked her up the four flights of stairs to her apartment, standing behind her as she knocked on her neighbor’s door to ask for her keys. The old lady watched Nevada suspiciously and he resisted the urge to say something nasty to her. At Sofia’s door, he took the keys from her - opening it and pressing her inside. The apartment was brighter than he might have expected from the outside, cluttered with books and knick-knacks. He trailed a hand across a low table as she walked across a soft-looking rug towards her bedroom, stopping halfway and turning to him. 

“Are you… staying?” she seemed concerned at the thought and he frowned at her. 

“No, just making sure you got home this time.”

She watched him leave the tiny apartment, and he waited on the other side of the door until he heard the deadbolt click behind him. He pushed his hands into his pockets and slowly walked down the stairs to the waiting car.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Sofia was getting to do a lot of new things since she met Nevada Ramirez. Her first hundred dollar bill, her first ride in an Escalade, her first completely drugged off of her gourd experience. And now, her first trip to the police station.

They’d walked up to her outside her apartment on Saturday, two men in ugly suits and oily smiles asking if she was Sofia Lopez and if she had a minute they’d like to talk to her. She’d climbed into the back of their beat-up Lincoln willingly, very aware of the eyes on the street watching her. There would be no way she could hide from this, everyone in the neighborhood would know she had been talking to the cops before the sun even went down.

At the precinct they sat her down on a rough wooden chair in a room with a large mirror. It was just like the movies and she almost giggled with the urge to yell her innocence and bang on the glass.

“Are you comfortable, can I get you some coffee?” the younger officer said, Detective Wilson he’d called himself.

“No, I’m fine. What’s the matter, did something happen to my grandmother?”

“No no no,” the other officer raised his hands, Detective Peron, and shook his head at her, “we’re not here about you. We have questions about someone you’ve been… seen around with.”

She swallowed, looking from one face to the other but not saying anything, tapping her fingers against her leg nervously and then making herself stop. 

“Where were you on Thursday night?”

She froze. “I was out… at the club with some friends.”

“What friends?”

“Chaz, she and I were dancing. Chaz Jackson,” she supplied at their prompting.

“Anyone else?”

She hesitated, but there had been what felt like hundreds of people there, they had seen them together there was no use lying, “Nevada Ramirez.”

The two cops exchanged a look. “Nevada Ramirez? I wouldn’t expect a girl like you to know someone like him. How did you two meet?”

“At a club.” It had the benefit of being mostly the truth.

“And what kind of friends are the two of you, exactly?”

She blushed, her mouth working for a moment before she settled on “Good friends.”

“And you were with him on Thursday night?”

“Yes.”

“ _All_ of Thursday night.”

She flashed back to the ride home, his hands on her thighs as he whispered in her ear. Her blush deepened and for the fourth time in as many months she made a split second decision and did something incredibly stupid. “Yes, all night.”

The two cops didn’t look like they believed her. The one who had been perched on the table next to her got up and crossed behind her, his shoes making a tapping noise against the linoleum floor.

“What were you doing all night?” the one at the table asked.

She blinked at him, “What do you think we were doing?”

Behind her, Peron was more forceful, “And there’s no way that he left you there? Snuck out while you were asleep? You know for a fact that he was with you the _entire_ night?”

She turned her head, glaring at him from the corner of her eye, “We were at the club until, I don’t know, maybe one in the morning. Then we went back to his apartment.” She was getting mad, she hadn’t done anything wrong - except lie to them - and they were treating her like she was a criminal. “Do you want the details of what we did there?” she snorted. “We didn’t leave the bed for hours.” Struck with inspiration she let a small satisfied smile curl her lips, “Well, the bed and the floor. And the table. The sofa….” She trailed off and met the gaze of the man across from her. “I promise you, he didn’t have the energy to go sneaking off anywhere.”

The two detectives were a silent for a moment before one of them slid a folder across the table to her, “Do you know this man?”

She opened it and saw a driver’s license photo. Her jaw clenched. “No.”

“No? Are you sure? I have several witnesses who say they saw the two of you getting cozy at the club that night with Ramirez no where to be found.”

She flipped the folder shut, pushing her glasses up her nose, “I didn’t say I didn’t recognize him, I said I don’t know him.” When the detective opened his mouth to reply she cut him off and stabbed a finger down on top of the file. “This man drugged me, he put something in my drink and when I was high he put his hands on me, he told me the things he was going to do to me,” she could remember the voice, the things he’d said that she hadn’t dared tell Nevada, floating to her as though from afar… 

_you’re a hot little cunt aren’t you, I’m going to use the pretty little mouth of yours. I’m going to come in your pussy and then fuck you in your ass. Have you ever had it up the ass? You’re going to love it, I’ll let my friends watch and maybe I’ll let them have a go. Can you feel that, feel your heartbeat? That’s the desi. You’re going to beg me come on you you little slut_

She swallowed, “He _told_ me he was going to rape me, have his friends join him. So no, I don’t _know_ him. But I would recognize that bastardo anywhere.” Her nostrils were flaring, she was so angry her chest was heaving.

The two detectives shared a look, before Wilson slid another folder to her. As she opened it she heard his voice as if from far away, “This is Gabriel Hernandez. Someone beat the shit out of him, probably with a bat or pipe.” Wilson let that sink in before leaning over, moving to spread the photos out before her, “They broke twenty three bones in his body, knocked half his teeth out and threw him in the river. His daughter had to identify him by a tattoo. She’s only nine.”

Peron leaned over her right shoulder, “This is more than assault, this is attempted murder. Whoever did this to him is not a nice man. That person is not someone who deserves to be covered for. They tortured Gabriel Hernandez Ms Lopez, beat him and _tortured_ him.”

They were both watching her carefully. She was staring at the photos, trying to piece together the bits of what had been done to the man. She wanted to feel sorry for him, no one deserved that, but deep down she felt something primal unfurl in her gut. She slid the photos into a neat pile and tucked them back into the folder. “Good. I’m glad he got what was coming to him, he probably fucked with the wrong person.”

“You’re right, he fucked with Nevada Ramirez. Fucked with his girl, drugged her, threatened to rape her. Do you think Ramirez was going to let that slide?”

She turned around in her chair, fingers clutching against the back, suddenly furious at them - at everyone, “Nevada hit him that night - you can probably find a dozen people willing to tell you that. But when I asked him to stop he did. When I asked him to take me home he did. And when I asked him to fuck me he made me love to me instead. For hours and hours he touched me and stroked me and made me forget the feel of that pendejo’s hands on me.” She sat back, crossing her arms, “I know Nevada, he is not a nice man. He is not a good man. And if you were going to tell me he had _killed_ someone I would say I probably believed you. But not on Thursday. On Thursday he was with me. All night.”

They left her in the room then, taking the folders of photos with them. She sat impatiently, tapping her toe against the floor. When they came back they told her she could go, pressing a business card into her hand. “We can protect you,” Wilson told her, his blue eyes searching hers.

She met his eyes and for the first time that day she told the truth. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  

* * *

  

Of course they had taken her down to the south precinct, the one twenty block from her apartment rather than four. She sighed, stuffing her hands in her pocket and beginning the long walk north up Amsterdam. She kicked at rocks as she went, wondering why, when offered the opportunity to get out from under Nevada’s thumb, she hadn’t taken it. It wasn’t that she _liked_ their arrangement, and she wasn’t even 100% certain that she liked _him_. But there was no reason for him to attack that man, that Gabriel Hernandez. No reason other than what Hernandez had done to her. No one had ever protected her like that before and while she was fairly certain about how she felt about _torture_ , her blood ran cold as she thought of what Hernandez had promised to do to her had Nevada not shown up when he did. In a fight between the two evils, she’d take the devil she knew.

And now she had lied for him to the police. Not because he had asked her to but because she had felt it was the right thing to do. “Stupid stupid stupid,” she muttered to herself, barely noticing the black SUV pulling up next to her until she heard Nevada’s voice from the open window.

“I hear you have had a busy day amorcita. Been down south. Been talking to the police. What did you need to talk to them about?”

She stopped, turning to him. Too tired and confused to play games she met his eyes levelly, “They wanted to know where you were on Thursday night.”

He made some kind of gesture to the driver of the vehicle and it stopped, the door opening and he motioned her into the back seat beside him. She didn’t argue, closing her eyes and laying her head back, waiting for him to ask whatever his next question was.

“What did you tell them?” his voice had an edge to it and she didn’t bother to look at him when she responded.

“I told him we were together, at your apartment, all night.” A thought occurred to her and she sat up suddenly, turning to him with a face that showed her concern, “Does that- I mean, they didn’t already ask you did they? God I hope I didn’t fuck this up. I was trying to help.”

He shook his head, finger rubbing against his bottom lip thoughtfully as he answered, “No one has talked to me. If they do I’ll tell them the same thing. That we were together, at my apartment.” He paused, his gaze on hers heating perceptibly as he smiled, “And what exactly did you tell them we were doing there all night?”

She blushed, turning forward again. “I didn’t go into details.”

He chuckled, laying one hand against her knee. “Did they tell you anything else? Did they tell you why they were asking?”

She hesitated a moment, he was going to find out eventually, “They found a guy in the river, they think you had something to do with it.”

His expression didn’t change, “And you told them that I was with you the whole night. That I could not have done anything to this man.”

She nodded and he smiled, squeezing her knee in approval. “That's a good girl. You did very well cariño, very well.” She resisted the urge to preen under his praise. He barked an order to the man driving who turned the car down the next street.

“I have a meeting right now, pity, but I want to talk to you more about what we were doing on this hypothetical Thursday night. Later though. You did good. Very good.”

“Did you…” she trailed off, eyes searching his. He didn’t respond, his eyes steady on hers as he waited for her to finish the question. She made a decision then, one she had been wanting to for days, weeks, possibly a lifetime. She’d made the same decision at the police station when she had lied to protect him. It wasn’t a smart decision. Later when she had time to reevaluate she’d remind herself that she had promised to stop being stupid. But it felt _right._

Reaching out, she grabbed him by his hair and roughly pulled his face to hers. Their noses bumped awkwardly, his teeth clacking against hers for a moment before her tongue slipped into his mouth. His hands were on her instantly, pulling her into his lap and then lowering her onto the plush leather seats of the car. She thought she heard him mutter “yes” into her mouth but wasn’t sure. She slid one hand down his back, pushing the leather jacket up so she could grip his ass, pulling his cock in tight against her. His hand squeezed her thigh and she parted her legs without prompting, hooking her knees high on his hips as he settled fully between them.

His mouth was hot on hers, his hands everywhere as he thrust his tongue into her. When she sucked on it he groaned, sliding his hand under her shirt to cup her through her bra. One of his hands was beside her head and he braced himself up, looking down at her with intense green eyes. His lips were parted, his hair mussed where she had grabbed at him. He stared at where his hand tented under her shirt, watching in apparent fascination as he squeezed and shaped the flesh. 

“Nevada,” she whispered and his eyes flew to her face. She imagined what she must look like. Her lips felt bruised, plump and wet from his kisses. She felt flushed and hot and her glasses were pushed too high on her face. She squeezed his ass through his jeans, pressing herself up to meet him as he rocked down and shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he looked angry and she pulled back a little - wondering if she had done something wrong.

“I don’t…” he gritted his teeth, fingers on her breast searching for and then pinching her nipple. She moaned, arching into his hand. He let out a huff of breath, “Fuck, I don’t have time for this.”

The hand under her shirt was out, cupping her face now, his thumb resting against her bottom lip as he stared down at her. She turned into the touch, closing her lips around his thumb and gently swirling her tongue around the tip. He groaned low and deep and then gasped when she gently bit the pad. Eyes never leaving his she sucked on him, feeling his thumb press against her bottom teeth as he gripped her jaw with his fingers.

“Dammit,” he swore. He seemed paralyzed, hovering above her while she worked her lips over him. “You need to stop.” She ignored him, sucking harder before biting him again. He pulled his thumb downwards, forcing her mouth open as he leaned down and thrust his tongue into her. When he sat back up, it was completely - on his knees between her thighs and smoothing a hand over his hair as he watched her. “Fuck you look hot.”

Once, her instinct would have been to cover herself. Instead, she reveled in it, stretching under his gaze and lifting her arms above her head and crossing her wrists. The motion pulled her breasts high and she saw his fingers twitch against the back of the seat. “Come to me tonight,” it wasn’t a question.

The smile she gave him was practically feral.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Nevada paced his apartment, glass of wine in one hand as he kicked his shoe against a stain on his rug. What the fuck was that? It’s not like he had people over his to his private apartment often, and he certainly didn’t remember spilling anything there. He was going have to talk to the old woman who came to clean.

He ran a hand over his hair and checked the clock for the hundredth time. She was two minutes late. He told himself she was coming, she had made her decision in the back of the car. He still wasn’t sure _why_ she had made the decision but he’d seen it in her eyes. She was definitely coming.

Three minutes late. He cursed, gulping down his wine and moving to the bottle. He tipped the neck against his glass and nearly dropped it when he heard the soft knock. He was across the room in a heartbeat, throwing the door open. She smiled up at him from behind her glasses, her hair caught up in a loose bun at the back of her neck. 

He smiled down at her, his eyes appreciative, “Is that my shirt?”

She blushed, glancing down at her bare legs peeking from under the hem. “It’s the only thing I had that you’ve said you like me in. I thought maybe you’d like….” She shrugged, meeting his gaze again, “I needed to bring it back anyway.”

His eyes narrowed, “Did you walk over here like that?”

She smiled back at him, holding up the small bag in her other hand. “I changed a bit in the stairwell, that’s why I’m late.” She paused before saying, “Can I come in?”

He backed away, gesturing her in and only then realizing he was still holding the bottle. “Would you like some wine?”

“I’d love some.”

Moving deeper into the apartment she kicked her shoes off and set her bag down. He watched her ass shift against the back of his shirt. He had lied to her before - he _loved_ her in his clothes, and there was something profoundly sexy about watching her move around his apartment wearing his shirt with her naked legs underneath. Pouring them both wine he moved up behind her as she stared out his windows. He pressed a kiss to her neck, feeling her lean back against him and he offered the wine to her. She took a sip, savoring it before licking a stray droplet from her lips. Running a hand down her side he stepped back, watching her turn to him. Raising his wineglass to his lips he leaned against the back of his sofa. “Take your hair down,” he ordered.

She set her glass on the window sill, raising her hands to her hair. His eyes followed the hem of his shirt as it rose against her thighs, high enough that he could see the edge of her panties between them. She pulled her glasses off and set them on the window as well and he felt a small stab of regret.  Her long dark hair fell around her shoulders and his fingers twitched. “Come here.”

She smiled at him, shaking her head as she reached for her wine. “No, it’s your turn.” She paused a moment, to see if he was going to protest. He raised an eyebrow, body tense as he waited for her next words. “Take off your shirt.”

His grin was wolfish as he set his wine down, hands lifting to the buttons. He undid the first one slowly, watching her breath quicken as her eyes followed his fingers. He took his time as he worked them, enjoying how her hands became unsteady and the wine sloshed in her glass. He undid the cuffs quickly and slipped the shirt from his shoulders, tossing it over the back of the couch. His chest was bare beneath it. 

Her tongue was running along her bottom lip and she looked at him expectantly. He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, leaning back and crossing his feet at the ankle. He ran his gaze up her long body before responding to her look. “Your turn. Take off my shirt.”

Her hands were slower than his, she stared at him as her fingers worked each button individually. The shirt gaped a half inch, baring a small strip of skin to him as she loosed the final one. Her fingers trailed up, tucking under the edges of the cloth near her shoulders. She paused, and he wondered if she had lost her nerve. He stood up, if she wasn’t going to do it he was more than happy to help her, but she stepped back - pushing the shirt off until it hooked at the crook of her elbows.

If someone had asked him, he would have said that he liked his women in red underwear. It was his favorite color. If pushed, he might have said black instead. He wasn’t sure he would have ever said blue - blue the color of the sky on a summer day - and he found himself re-evaluating all his life choices because he could have knelt and worshipped at the light blue lace cupping her tits and between her thighs for the rest of his life and died a happy man.

She held his shirt at her elbows for a moment before letting it drop to the floor. He was frozen in place, stuck between stepping forward and waiting for her to continue whatever game this was. “What do you want?” Her reply was breathy, barely audible.

“Touch me.”

He was on her before she had finished the words, his hand skimming along her hip as he tangled the other into her hair. She pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and offering her mouth up to him. His hand slid down, slipping under her underwear to cup her ass and pull her up and tighter against him. He was murmuring into her mouth, a mix of English and Spanish he couldn’t have recalled if someone had put a gun to his head. Lifting her, he spun her around and set her on the back of the couch, stepping between her thighs. She hooked her heels against his knees, holding onto his neck as he leaned his body into her.

The bra was unhooked a moment later, and he slid it forward, lips curling as she lowered her arms one at a time to help him remove it. Her nipples were already hard and he plumped one of her breasts up with his hand and lowered his head to cover her with his mouth. She gasped and then moaned as he sucked on her nipple, grazing his teeth against it before soothing it with his tongue. She slid her hands into his hair, scratching her nails against his scalp. He sucked hard in response, pulling back and letting her nipple go with a pop before covering it with his hand. His fingers twisting as he tongued at the other. Panting and gasping she arched against him, alternating between pressing his face closer to her and pulling at his hair. His hand slipped down, between her thighs to feel how wet she was, his fingers moving against her as she twisted against him.

“Stop,” she gasped, “wait, please Nevada.”

He pulled away, his lips parted as he looked down at her. She pushed back on his shoulders and he stepped away. Dark thoughts began to cloud his mind, quickly silenced as she dropped to her knees in front of him. The sound of his belt buckle was like music and the pressure of her hands against him was pure torture. She unbuckled his pants, pushing them and his underwear down until his cock sprang free. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, it didn’t seem right to fist them into her hair. Settling instead for clenching them at his sides as she gently wrapped one of her small hands around the base of his cock.

She looked up at him for a few seconds through her long lashes, regarding him with an unreadable expression. He didn’t know what she wanted, he reached out to touch her but she was tugging him forward and _fucking jesus mary and joseph_ her mouth was sliding along the side of his cock and he was in heaven. Her long hair whispered against his hips as she slid her tongue to the base of his cock and back. He gently wrapped his fingers into the strands, guiding her mouth back to the tip - waiting but not forcing her. When her lips closed over the head of his cock he groaned, and when her tongue swirled around him he couldn’t help but thrust forward, pressing deeper into her mouth. She moaned around him, he could feel the vibrations down to his balls, and began to move her head in time with his thrusting hips. He shut his eyes, unable to watch her, feel her, and retain any semblance of control of himself. 

He pulled away from her abruptly, watching her startled expression as he lifted her to her feet. His hands dipped down under her ass, lifting her into his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Walking her to the bedroom, he toed off his shoes and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She rolled her pussy against him and he could feel the dampness rubbing on his cock as he walked. Dumping her unceremoniously on the bed, he stepped back to push his remaining clothes off. She scooted back, propping herself on her elbows and watching him as he stalked her movements, one knee on the bed between her legs as he reached up to hook his fingers under her panties. Lifting her hips, he slid the scrap of fabric down, tossing them over his shoulder. He slowly ran his hands back up her legs, up the inside of her thighs as he gently pressed them apart. Her thighs glistened with her juices and he groaned as he slipped one finger inside her, marveling at how wet she was.

Back arching, she tossed her hair, thrusting her breasts forward. She looked so damn sexy he felt his cock jump. He pushed his finger in her deeper and licked his lips as she whispered his name. “What do you want cariño?” She gasped, pushing her pussy against him, fucking herself on his finger. He pulled his hand away, pressing his palm against her firmly. “Talk to me belleza, what do you want?”

She shook shook her head, biting her lip and closing her eyes at his intense stare. Eyebrows drawing together, he shifted his hand further down, gripping her thigh. “What do you want?”

“I can’t,” it came out as a whine, sheets twisting between her fingers. 

He grinned, loving watching her squirm on his sheets. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Where?”

She keened, a high sound that settled into his nerves, biting her lip before meeting his eyes, “You know where.”

“Here?” he traced his finger up her thigh, running along her hip bone. She moaned, twisting under him and he ran his tongue along his teeth, his grin deepening into a smirk. His hand dipped, sliding his thumb down and across her clit.

“ _There_!” her voice was strained and he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her, enjoying the sheen of sweat on her body. He leaned down, propping himself on his elbow as he looked at her over the edge of her hips. Her eyes were wide as she stared back at him. He blew against her, and she sighed. 

“What do you want? Tell me.” He leaned forward, breathing in the smell of her pussy, “Tell me to fuck you, tell me to lick you. Tell me you want my tongue in you. Tell me what you want and I will _give_ it to you.”

“I want _you_ ,” the pleading note in her voice struck him. She was looking at him as though he was the only man in the world and he suddenly doubted he deserved it. Ignoring the thought he buried his face in her pussy, pulling her clit between his lips as he thrust two fingers deep inside her. She arched off the bed and he followed her, pulling his other arm up to lay across her lower stomach and hold her down. He licked and sucked at her, nibbling around her before setting his tongue to the little pearl and stroking her until she was shuddering and moaning. Her hips jerked and he held her down, gently soothing her stomach with his hand as he watched her come, gasping his name.

He licked a long stripe up her pussy before moving his body over hers. Her chest was heaving and her eyes were closed. He set his hands to each side of her shoulders and slid his cock against her. Her eyes flew open. “Nevada,” she whispered, running her hands up his chest. Her pussy was still quivering with the after ripples of her orgasm when he slid inside her. His forehead dropped to hers, coming down to his elbows as he wrapped his hands over her head. He held her body still as he thrust inside her, slowly sliding in and out.

Their short breaths mingled between them and she shifted under him, pulling her knees up to draw him deeper. He groaned, speeding up his thrusts until his hips were slapping against hers. She pressed her fingers to the back of his neck and kissed him softly as he came inside her, his hoarse shout echoing off the walls of the bedroom.


	12. Chapter 12

Sofia awoke slowly. The bedroom was vaguely familiar and it was still dark, not yet morning. She stretched a little and felt a warm body press closer to her back. The man with his arm around her waist and his thigh between hers murmured low in her ear - nonsense phrases and grumbles that made her giggle softly. She ran her fingers down his forearm and gently rolled her ass back, feeling his half-hard cock settle between her cheeks. Fingers dug momentarily against her stomach and she felt his breath huff against the back of her neck. “You should let sleeping dogs lie,” Nevada admonished, sliding the length of his cock against her slowly.

She smiled, “I don’t want to sleep.”

His hand stroked upward to pluck at her nipple and she moaned. One of her hands dropped to clench at the thigh thrown over hers. The other reached up by her face, entwining her fingers with his as she rested against his arm. His lips grazed her shoulder and he chuckled softly, tracing fingertips over her skin as she shivered. He dipped between her legs, breath hissing out as he found her already wet. He shifted their legs, sliding his hand down to lift her knee and hook it over his. The head of his cock teased at her entrance and she pressed back to him. They moaned together as he slid inside. 

He fucked her slowly, long and leisurely thrusts as the room slowly brightened around them with the dim light from the morning sun. He whispered in her ear that she was beautiful, that she was perfect and that she felt so damn good around his cock. And when he began to thrust harder into her, he slipped his hand down between her thighs and rubbed her clit until she choked on his name. When his own orgasm rolled over him he bit her shoulder and her last thought before she drifted to sleep again was that she could be quite happy waking up like this every morning.

 

* * *

 

 When Sofia woke again it was much later and she was very much alone. Her phone was buzzing by her head, convenient that, and she sleepily reached out and answered, “Hullo?”

“Sofia? It’s Valeria.”

Sofia sat up abruptly, her eyes scanning the room for a clock, “Oh my god am I late?”

Valeria laughed, “Yes, but it’s not a problem. That man of yours walked in this morning, handed Camila and Elena a hundred bucks each and told them to cover for you. I’d be more mad but it’s slow today.”

Sofia hung her head, resting it on her knees. Jesus, how embarrassing. “Oh,” she said lamely.

“I just wanted to check if you’ll be in tomorrow or if I should bring someone else on.”

“Yes,” she said forcefully. “I will be there. One hundred percent. Evening shift right?”

“Yep, see you then,” and she hung up.

Sofia collapsed back on the bed. God bless that man. She had completely forgotten she was scheduled. Rolling into the sheets she buried her nose into a pillow. It smelled like him - and her. 

Her bag was where she left it and she was thankful for her foresight as she pulled out her change of clothes. She took a long shower, reveling in the multi-fauceted streams. Wrapping one of the thick towels around herself she sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair before getting dressed. 

She cracked the front door open hesitantly. 

“Hola Stefan.”

The large man jumped, turning from his magazine to her. “Buenos dias Sofia. Or actually, buenos tardes.”

She blushed and he laughed at her. “Are you here to take me home?” He nodded. “I’m so sorry, you must hate this.”

Stefan shrugged, taking the bag from her and walking her to the elevator. “It’s not so bad. Beats roughing up old ladies.”

When her eyes went wide he laughed, “I’m kidding.”

 

* * *

 

It had a taken a few back and forths before Sofia convinced Stefan to take her to the hospital instead of home. She apparently had the day off anyway and it was actually visiting hours. In the end, she had told him that he was welcome to take her home, but she was just going to turn around and walk to the hospital anyway so wouldn’t he just be nice and save them the trouble? He grumbled the whole way, about Nevada being angry and some pointed comments about bare feet. She blushed at that but pointed out that she was wearing shoes today and even if she wasn’t - he was driving her. He seemed almost offended by the bright smile that accompanied the statement.

“Abuelita,” she cried out as she entered the room, “you’re awake.”

The old woman was sitting up in the bed, her eyes only just barely open. She smiled when she saw Sofia enter the room and her mouth moved. Sofia set her bag down at the foot of the bed, moving quickly to take her hand and lean in closer. “What was that?”

“You look happy.”

Sofia smiled, “I am Abuelita. You look so good.”

“What happened to your neck?”

Her eyebrows drew together quizzically, “Nothing?”

Abuelita raised her hand slightly, pointing towards her shoulder. She raised her hand and winced slightly as she pressed where Nevada had bitten her that morning. She blushed to the roots of her hair. “It’s nothing, nothing to worry about. How are _you_?”

Sofia stayed with her grandmother for hours, laughing and talking and enjoying the lucid moments which were becoming fewer and farther between. When the nurse came in and told her that her abuelita needed her rest now she kissed her softly on the forehead, promising she would be back soon. She ignored the nurse’s look that she was unlikely to have many more chances.

 

* * *

 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she walked home. _Him_. She smiled, “Hello?”

“Good afternoon, I hope you slept well?”

She leaned against the building next to her, “Well, I tried, but _someone_ kept waking me up.”

He chuckled, the husky sound going straight between her thighs, “That’s not how I remember it.” The phone was silent for a moment and then, “I’m taking you out tonight.”

“A club?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, dinner. Just you and me, I’ll be there at eight.”

He hung up on her but she was used to that, cradling her phone to her chest and closing her eyes.

“Oh honey, I know that look.”

Her eyes flew open to see Chaz standing a few feet away lighting a cigarette. She took a puff, gesturing at Sofia as she said, “You went and did it didn’t you?”

Sofia blushed and Chaz laughed, “Let’s grab lunch.”

“This late?”

“It’s early for me, you got time?”

“For you I have all afternoon,” she laughed, following Chaz into a small sandwich shop. 

“So, spill,” Chaz said once they were seated and ordered, pointedly ignoring the owner’s irate look as she continued to smoke her cigarette.

Sofia twirled her straw in her drink, “I spent the night with him last night. It was… amazing.”

Chaz laughed at her, “I bet it was, that man has got some moves.” Sofia’s eyes flew to her face but Chaz was taking her plate from the owner, putting her cigarette out against the glass tabletop. “I remember this one time, he had me up against this wall behind Manny’s…” She finally noticed the struck expression on Sofia’s face. “Oh no, I mean, this was ages ago. As far as I know he’s only had eyes for you since he met you.”

Sofia nodded, she had known that Nevada had never been a saint, but it was still off-putting to hear about it firsthand.

“Anyway,” Chaz was continuing, “I’m glad to hear it’s worked out. After that night at the club I was worried.”

“Oh! I need to get your dress back to you!”

“I’ll come by sometime, don’t worry about it,” Chaz waved her off.

“Are you, uh, working tonight?” Sofia asked hesitantly.

Chaz laughed, “Yeah.”

“Is it- is it rude of me to ask what that’s like?”

“You thinking about changing careers?” Chaz’s laugh had a hard edge to it.

Sofia blushed, “No, I’m sorry, it _was_ rude and you’ve only ever been nice to me.”

Chaz pulled a pickle from her sandwich, setting it to the side before tapping her fingers on the table. “It’s better than some jobs, worse than others. I don’t work the streets anymore - believe me that’s a big bonus - and I get to mostly chose who I take on. It’s not awful. Actually,” her eyes lit up, “sometimes it can be _very_ fun.”

They chatted a bit more before Chaz excused herself, she had a hair appointment. Sofia watched her sashay down the street in her little black halter dress and had a sudden realization. She didn’t have anything to wear tonight.


	13. Chapter 13

Nevada had considered meeting her at her door. He had considered flowers - had even gone so far as to stop at the corner market and stare at the cheap bouquets wrapped in plastic but none of it had seemed right. In the end, when she slid into the passenger seat across from him it wasn’t flowers or chocolate or jewelry he gave her but his tongue, slipping into her mouth as he cupped the back of her head in his palm and she gave him back the same. She pulled away from him after a moment, almost shyly, and he noted that light summer dress she wore.

“Is that new?” he asked, feeling like he was supposed to.

She smoothed her hand over the skirt when she replied, “I picked it up today. I mean, it’s not exactly special but I thought you might like it.” He smiled at the thought that she would buy something to wear for him. “And,” she continued, leaning closer to him, “I bought something else new to wear too.”

His eyes dipped down to the neck of her dress, wondering if he could see anything and she chuckled as she traced her fingers up his arm, “But that’s for later.”

He turned the key in the engine and smoothly guided the sleek sports car into the street.

 

* * *

 

“Why Emmanuel?”

She choked on her wine, quickly picking up her napkin and covering her mouth as she stared at him over the edge and coughed until her eyes watered. “What?”

They sat across from each other at the restaurant, a pristine white tablecloth between them. The table was small, and Sofia’s ankle rested against his calf. Dinner had come and gone, replaced by another bottle of wine and a small tray of truffles.

He waited for her to finish her coughing fit completely before he continued, “Emmanuel Perez, why him and not one of the dozen other boys that come to me every day?”

“He’s one of my students.”

He rolled his eyes, “You have hundreds of them as far as I can tell, running after you on the street - ‘profesora, profesora’ - what makes Emmanuel so special?”

She flushed, mumbling into her wine glass.

“What was that?”

“Poor timing,” she clarified and when he lifted his eyebrow at her quizzically she laughed. “Or good timing for him I suppose. And you.” She started to laugh and he watched her with a bemused expression as she pressed a hand to her chest, “Oh god, it’s just so ridiculous, all things considered. And so _stupid_. My friend’s father had died the night before. He OD’ed. On heroin I think. And that afternoon… well…” she traced a finger around the rim of the wineglass, “that was the day Abuelita went into the hospital.” She shrugged, “Later, when I went to teach those kids and I saw Emmanuel there with his bags of, whatever the hell it was, I just got so _mad._ ”

“And you so you came to my club and yelled at me because….?”

“Because I couldn’t stop a needle and I couldn’t save-“ she stopped herself, “Because it seemed to be one thing I still had some control over.” She looked up at him through her long lashes, “I told you, all things considered it’s probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever done. I mean, look where it’s gotten me.”

“It doesn’t seem so bad from where I’m sitting,” his gaze on hers was heated and she blushed, her eyes darting to his lips and his hands and he smirked. She was so easy to read, an open book as these things went. He shifted beneath the table, feeling her foot slide along the leg of his pants and her eyes flew to his face. She looked at him for a log moment before rubbing her foot against him, softly.

He smiled as he picked up his wine, knocking the glass back. “Shall we?” he asked and she hastily got to her feet, a little unsteady. He wrapped an arm around her, guiding her out the front door and into the street as she leaned her body into his.

She pulled him up against her at the car, backing him into it until he was pinned. He laughed at her, his mouth seeking and finding hers as he let her manhandle him. He could taste the wine and laughter on her tongue and he drank it like a man dying of thirst. Pulling back, he considered that his apartment was a long way back uptown. He reached down to open the door for her and she slid into the low seat gracefully, pulling her legs in after her.

Crossing in front of the car, he watched her tilt her head back against the seat, her lips parted as she watched him move. He practically slammed the door closed behind him, turning the engine and pulling from the curb in a matter of seconds. Her eyes were half closed and he reached over to shake her knee. “Don’t fall asleep on me cariño,” he admonished and her eyes flew open, meeting his sideways glance.

She smiled, covering his hand with hers. Idly stroking her fingers across the back, tracing each one lightly. He licked his lips, watching from the corner of his eye, feeling every movement straight to his cock. When she moved her fingers to his forearm he slid his hand down, under the edge of her dress until he could press against her cloth-covered cunt. She gasped, a small sound that made him hard, and spread her legs slightly in the seat.

He focused his eyes forward, slipping a finger under the silky band. He groaned, “You’re wet for me already.”

“I’m always wet for you,” she admitted, spreading her legs a little further.

All the blood in his body seemed to rush to his cock. He teased his fingers along her, dipping in slightly before tracing along her lips. She pressed at his arm with both hands for a while but when it became obvious he would not be sped up she lifted to grab the headrest behind her, her breasts thrusting forward as she arched into his hand. Her glasses had slipped down to the tip of her nose. It was sexy as hell and Nevada bore down on the accelerator a little harder.

He dragged her into his apartment building, tossing the car keys to the boy waiting up for him and pressing the elevator call button. The doors opened immediately and he pushed her inside, reaching out blindly to press his floor. She was kissing his neck, her hand under his shirt, and he lifted one of her legs up to hook on his hip as he pressed her against the wall. He heard the soft beeping as the elevator clicked through floors, savoring the feeling of her tongue running against his skin. When the doors opened again he pulled her into the small hallway and backed her against his door. 

She was sighing and gasping against his lips, incoherent little noises that drove him crazy. He searched his pocket for his key and they stumbled inside together. He grasped at the front of her dress, slamming the door closed with his foot as he contemplated ripping it off of her. He imagined her hurt look if he did and settled for lifting it instead, her arms rising above her head as he pulled it up and tossed it god only knew where. Her glasses were askew and he fixed them with a gentle hand. She reached up for them but he stilled her, “Leave them on, I want you to see everything.” The grin he gave her was wolfish as he glanced down her body.

Her underwear was red, had he told her about that? Deep scarlet that stood out on her skin like blood. He groaned, dropping to kneel on one knee in front of her as he moved her hips back against the wall. He pressed his mouth against the front of her panties and she cried out. He hooked one of her thighs over his shoulder, using his hand to push aside the soaking wet cloth and stroke his tongue along her hot cunt. Her head rolled against the wall as she gasped his name and he worked his tongue over her.

It should have been a submissive position, kneeling in front of her, but there wasn’t a doubt in either of their minds that he was in complete control. When her orgasm washed over her she clutched at his hair, crying out with knees shaking. He held her up, licking her all the way through it until she pushed at his forehead whispering “Please, no more.”

He stood then, kissing her with his face still wet from her pussy. She licked at his lips, catching her own wetness on her tongue. The movements of her body were slow against him now, no longer frantic, and he resisted the urge to hurry her along as she started to slowly unbutton his shirt. Pushing both it and his jacket off she pressed her hands to his chest, then her lips. He unhooked her bra before lifting her and carrying her to the bedroom. Collapsing backwards, pulling her on top of him and sliding his hands into her panties to grab at her ass, slipping the cloth down her thighs. She giggled at him, pulling her knees up to straddle across his stomach as she pulled her panties off each foot, her long hair brushing against him as she leaned down to kiss him again. 

Her mouth trailed down his neck, to his nipple where she curled her tongue around him before gently biting down. “Mierda,” he shouted, gasping when she gently soothed it with her lips. “Fuck,” he breathed, watching her move downwards, her ass wiggling in the air as she pulled his pants and underwear down over his hips. He kicked the garments to the floor, locking his fingers behind his head as he looked down at her. 

She smiled at him before she leaned forward, cupping his balls in one hand and drawing the other along his cock. He jerked into her hand, eyes locked on her as she slowly pressed her open mouth to the head of him. She played with just the head, moving her hand up and down his length as she sucked and swirled her tongue around him, her tongue darting to catch the drops of precum her mouth drew from him. He watched her work for a few minutes, balling his fingers into tight fists when he thought he was getting too close. In the end, he reached down and grabbed her shoulder pulling her over him and settling her hips over his. Her hands settled against his chest as she stared down at him. 

He fisted his cock, guiding it to her pussy and they both moaned together when he slipped inside. His hands went to her hips, pressing her down in short movements. Fuck she was tight. And at this angle she was struggling to take him all. She bit her lip, her brow furrowed as she rocked against him slowly. “Relax cariño,” he whispered and he felt her slide down until he was fully inside her. Opening her eyes, the smile she gave him was dazzling and he pressed his hands against her momentarily before loosening his grip. “Ride me.”

She settled her hands to his stomach, holding herself up as she rocked her hips against his, taking his cock in long slow strokes. His fingers dug into her thighs, his watchful eyes memorizing how her lips parted with her tiny gasps. The angle of her chin as she arched her back over him. The glasses perched on the tip of her nose that made her look pure and untouchable. He pressed his hand between their bodies, seeking the little pearl between her thighs. Her eyes flew open when he circled her and he watched in fascination as she came on his cock at the slightest of touches, calling his name out. He gripped her hips then, holding her steady as he fucked up into her once, twice, and on the third he pressed her tight as he came inside her with a low groan.

She swayed forward and he caught her, pulling her down to lay on top of him. He reached up and gently pulled her glasses off, smiling at her sleepy grumble as he set them on the night stand. She snuggled against him, an odd feeling that he couldn’t recall anyone ever doing before, and murmured incoherently against the hairs on his chest. He stroked his hand down her back and listened as her breathing evened out and she fell asleep. He was still inside her, her knees at his hips as she lay on him and he smiled to himself as he drifted off as well.

 


	14. Chapter 14

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Nevada took her to to restaurants and nightclubs, and then took her against brick walls and bathroom counters and on one memorable occasion behind a dark curtain six feet from a crowded dinner table. He’d held his hand over her mouth then, whispering to her that she needed to be quiet, that they were going to hear her, that she was such a dirty little slut to be getting off like that with those nice old ladies so close by. She came so hard she’d blacked out, coming to moments later to stars in her eyes and Nevada grinning like he’d won an Olympic medal in fucking. 

She was barely conscious at work, not getting home til two or three in the morning if she got in before dawn at all and she thanked her lucky stars that it was summer and school was out and she didn’t need to worry about her extra tutoring times. In the daylight hours she thought about him and on the nights he wasn’t around she touched herself and thought about him. It was a sickness, a disease to which he was both the symptom and only cure. She knew it wasn’t healthy but for once in her life she really didn’t care.

She floated on a cloud of denial right up until the moment she couldn’t. The night started innocuously enough, a phone call from him while she was at work, saying that she should meet him at the club if she was still mostly awake after her late shift. She wasn’t but went anyway, starved for the sight of him, for his touch.

She almost missed him, his face and form completely blocked by the girl sitting in his lap. The girl was sucking on his ear, whispering things than made him laugh and pat her thigh. She waited, hoping for the moment when he would say something to the girl - anything - that would make her get up, pout at him, and move on to someone else. But he never did. Sofia backed away, almost falling into the street in her hurry to get away. Her fists were clenched at her sides. She did not consider herself a violent woman and she had never in her life felt such an urge to hit someone - hit _him_ if she was being honest.

But she still carefully maintained the flimsy little shelter of lies she had begun to build. Telling herself the next morning that she would just ask him about it, like a rational adult. He hadn’t looked at that girl the way he looked at her - like she was the most confusing and wonderful thing. She told herself that over and over, counting the steps as she slowly walked the path from her apartment to the restaurant. By the time she got off work that day she had convinced herself that it was just business for him. She didn’t like it but she had known what she was getting into when she had taken that leap. There were going to be parts of his life that she was going to hate, and his girls would just be part of that. She could live with the occasional touch, the occasional flirtation. She told herself she could.

And then it crashed down. Nevada, leaning with one arm against a building on a dimly lit street corner, pressing into a girl who could have been Chaz’s cousin. Primped and pretty and styled and everything Sofia was not. She ran a hand up his shirt and he moved closer, his mouth on her neck. Sofia watched as the girl laughed at something he said, slipping her hand into the hair at the back of his neck.

She felt tears prick at her eyes and cursed herself for being an idiot - turning blindly onto the next street. She knew she wasn’t his girl, not in the strictest sense of the word. In his world she doubted that there really were such things and he’d been upfront with her about what he wanted from the beginning. Oh, she _belonged_ to him, there was no doubt about that. People on the street gave her a wide berth and she had grown accustomed to grown men, strangers, practically falling over themselves to be polite to her. But his ownership didn’t denote feelings or care. And just because she had given herself so completely to him didn’t mean that he had felt the same way. In her mind she had always known it to be true, but god it still hurt to have to acknowledge it with her heart as well.

And so, when Maria Jose stopped her in the hallway to tell her that her nephew was back in town and did she want to have dinner with him she said maybe. And when Nevada called her that night to explain he was going to have to cancel their plans - he’d make it up to her later - she changed the maybe to a yes. 

She enjoyed being with him, and he enjoyed her, but she would be a fool to put her life on hold for the chance that he might someday feel something other than lust for her. Especially when she wasn’t even sure she wanted anything more than that from him.

 

* * *

 

Santiago was a nice guy. Had she met him earlier that year she might even had said he was her type. He was clean-shaven, dressed up in khaki pants and a polo shirt that stretched tight across his muscles. He was handsome, young - and she noted idly that their waitress couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He told her that he was fresh out of the Army, some unit whose name didn’t seem important enough for her to remember although he said it with pride.

“What do you do now?”

He smiled back at her, picking up his beer and taking a slow drink before replying, “I’m contracting with Public Works, a subway renovation downtown. You?”

She smiled at him, answering that she was a waitress but was taking some classes and hoping to be a teacher. It was officially more about her than Nevada had ever bothered to learn.

They talked about the city, about growing up in the barrio and their mutual love of crime novels. He loved the ones where the detective was left for dead, forced to cut all ties with his family and go off on a path of vengeance. She told him she was a sucker for a happy ending and wasn’t that just ridiculous. They shared stories of their childhood and she laughed at all the right places. He was a nice guy; smart and funny and as far as she could tell _normal_.

She was bored to tears.

They walked home together, he was staying with his aunt and there didn’t seem to be a reason not to. She didn’t notice the whispers on the street as they passed, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. The same men who had ducked away from her before trailed along behind the couple and made rude comments to each other - although neither Sofia nor Santiago heard them. By the time they got to the front steps of the building, the neighborhood was buzzing with the news.

Ramirez’s girl was stepping out on him.

 

* * *

 

The next day he invited her to the museum, riding the A train together downtown before cutting through the park. She wore the light summer dress she had bought for Nevada and took pleasure in the way he admired her legs but didn’t comment on them. They laughed their way through the sunny Sunday afternoon and by the time they boarded the train home it was growing dark. 

She raced ahead of him out of the subway station on 181st. Turning at the top of the stairs, calling back down to him and not noticing the SUV across the street slow, the window rolling down to watch them. At the top of the step, Santiago caught her around the waist, picking her up in his arms and spinning her before pressing his lips to hers. It was deeply romantic, she admitted to herself later, but she was startled and froze. Noting her lack of enthusiasm he pulled away quickly - making a joke about her cheating in the race to which she replied that she didn’t need to. He was just big and slow and that wasn’t her fault. Slipping his hand into hers he tugged her towards the little taqueria on the corner as the darkened window of the SUV rolled up and the vehicle pulled away.

He parted from her after dinner, saying that he was meeting friends but could walk her home first. She demurred, it was only a few blocks and she didn’t want to hold him up. He leaned in to kiss her again and this time she turned her head away. He kissed her cheek instead and she saw in his eyes that he was not going to try again.

The walk home was slow, kicking at the stray pebbles as she hung her head and thought about her life choices. Something she had been doing a lot of lately. She didn’t notice the black car pull up next to her, door opening and a large, burly man getting out. Rough hands grabbed her, shoving her unceremoniously into the back seat. She thought about screaming, but she recognized the leather seats and small flag hanging from the rear view mirror. She also recognized the driver.

“Javier, what are you doing?”

He wouldn’t meet her eye, ducking his head instead as he pulled the vehicle out into the street. The man in the passenger seat, the one who had grabbed her, was new to her. “Nevada wants to see you,” was the only answer she got.

She sighed, pressing her head back against the headrest. Of course he did, and judging by her escort service he was not happy.

Good. Neither was she.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Nevada stood at the window in his apartment, his second glass of whiskey in one hand, cigarette in the other. When he heard the knock at the door, he called “Enter,” but didn’t bother to turn. He heard the door open and close, and he watched the reflection in the window as she stepped into the room, walking as far as the edge of the large rug before stopping. She opened her mouth as though to say something but seemed to think better of it, clasping her hands in front of her instead and staying quiet. She looked angry and he wondered what she thought she had the right to be angry about.

He downed the remainder of his whiskey - taking one last puff of his cigarette before dropping it into the now empty glass. “You’ve been busy the last few days,” he said, setting the glass down carefully. Her eyebrows drew together quizzically and he admired her acting skills. He’d never noticed before, or maybe he had but had rather pretended he hadn’t.

“If you mean Santiago I-“

“Do _not_ ,” he snapped, taking a deep breath, “Do not say his name to me. Not here. Not _ever_.”

She stared at him and seemed to be considering something. Whatever the decision was, he saw the tension drain out of her shoulders. The arms that had been crossed over her chest dropped down and her anger melted off of her. She stood there, staring as though she had never seen him before.

He moved to the deep leather couch, patting his thigh and motioning her forward. She hesitated, still wearing that befuddled expression, but crossed the room to him. She moved to sit on his knee and he stopped her. “Face down.” She jerked her head to his and he didn’t move - waiting for her to do as she was told. The movements were slow, deliberate, as she set her knees to one side of his thighs and laid herself across his lap.

He pressed one forearm across her shoulder blades, running his other hand up her leg and flipping the skirt of her dress up. The skirt she had bought for _him._ “Do you know what you’ve done wrong?” He didn’t wait for her answer, smacking her ass lightly and feeling the startled jerk she made.

“I went out with someone.”

“Be more specific,” he said, smoothing his hand along her ass cheek.

“I was out with another man.”

He twisted her panties in his hand, pulling them tight between the lips of her pussy and her ass cheeks. She squirmed and he twisted harder. “Yes. What else?”

“I,” she gasped as he rubbed her panties against her. “I… disrespected you?”

“Yes you did. And what do you think we should do about that?”

She was quiet, pressing her ass back against his hand. He jerked upward slightly, startling another gasp from her before letting her go. 

“I- I should be punished.”

“Yes,” he whispered, pressing his fingers against her skin, “yes you should.”

When his hand slapped down against her ass she cried out - trying to jerk away from him but he held her down by her shoulders. He hit her again, hard, watching the red handprint rise against the smooth flesh. He twisted her hair in his fist, hand striking against her in quick, sharp movements over and over. She was shuddering against him by the time he was finished and he slipped his fingers to dip into her pussy. She was soaking wet and he bent down to bite at her red ass cheek, thrusting his finger into her. She pushed back against his hand, crying out. He pulled out and thrust another finger into her, feeling her body stretch around him. She was rocking back against him, crying out as he thrust roughly into her tight cunt.

He pulled his hand away abruptly, smacking her across the ass one last time for setting her away from him. She stood, swaying slightly on her feet as her skirt fell to cover her. He stretched his arms across the back of the couch. “Strip.” She lifted her hands to the edge of her dress, pulling the skirt up to her hips before his disappointed tutting stopped her. “No, no, no. Like you mean it. Do it slowly. Show off for me.”

She hesitated, “I-“ she shook her head slightly then met his eyes. His eyebrow went up and she breathed heavily. She took a step back from him and shut her eyes but he didn’t mind, watching as her hands slid up the front of her body instead. She ran her fingers hesitantly along her neck, dragging one hand down between her breasts. She cupped one briefly briefly before trailing her fingertips down across her stomach. She hesitated again and he lowered one arm from the back of the couch to rub himself through his pants. 

Her fingers ran up her thigh, lifting the edge of the dress and he followed with his eyes. The fabric caught on her fingers and she lifted it over her head in one long motion, her hair falling around her face in a cloud. The deep red underwear stood out against her skin and he couldn’t help but imagine her getting dressed for her _date_. Slipping into the silky cloth for someone else. He felt his jaw clench, staring at her navel as she slowly unhooked her bra and slid her hands down to her hips.

She opened her eyes then, thumbs hooked under the edge of her panties. He regarded her impassively, not trying to hide the way he worked his hand against his cock. She turned her back to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and bending over, giving him a great view of her red ass as she slid the fabric down. Stepping out of them, she stood up and glanced at him over her shoulder.

The sound of his zipper was loud in the silence of the room. He reached down, pulling himself free of the fabric and raised his arms again to the back of the couch. “Come here. On your knees.” She turned back to him, stepping between his spread legs and sinking down to the floor in front of him, her hands folded primly in her lap as he shifted against the couch. “You’ve had your punishment, now show me your apology.”

Her eyes never left his, her hands coming up to his thighs and pressing her lips around him, taking him deep into her mouth. She leaned forward, pulling him into her throat until she choked, tears springing to her eyes as she pulled away. She worked her lips against him, taking him so deep that he could feel the back of her throat, pressing her tongue against the sensitive vein and massaging his balls with one hand. He watched her dispassionately, part of him admiring the technique while simultaneously hating her for it. She took him slowly for a few minutes before gradually speeding up, twisting her hand against him as she sucked.

He gripped against the back of the couch and stared over her head when he came on her tongue. She continued to lick and suck at him as his body pumped between her lips, slowly swirling her tongue around the head of his cock until his shuddering stopped and she let him go with a soft pop. Her mouth red and wet and swollen from working him. Such a little whore, but she was _his_ little whore. She was waiting for his next command, breasts rising and falling as she watched him.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “You can go now.”

“Nevada-“

He cut her off, not bothering to look at her, “Get out.”

He listened as she gathered her clothes, feeling the soft whisper of air as she pulled her dress on. He heard the door open, a hesitation, “I let you do this to me tonight. I won’t make the same mistake again.” He didn’t respond and when he heard the door click closed he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling for a long time.

 


	16. Chapter 16

The market, the post office and the bodega. Then to 189th to drop everything off. Back to the market, then to 182nd. To the dry cleaners, back to the market and crossing over 179th. Buy the groceries, drop of the package, walk the dog and put the laundry in. Talk to old Mr Johnson and play with little Mikey. And when it was all over she could go back home, crawl under her covers and never come out again. She picked up her pace, the thought comforting her.

“Sofia!”

She turned at the sound her name, pulling the headphones from her ears, “Chaz?”

“Hey girl! I haven’t seen you in a while? How’s life?”

“Good. It’s summer so not so busy anymore,” Sofia smiled at the other woman.

 “That’s great! And how are you and Nevada doing?”

Sofia promptly burst into tears.

She barely noticed when Chaz led her into the nearby coffee shop, sitting her down in a corner. Jesus, what was wrong with her? She dug in her bag for tissues, finding wads of gum wrappers and sighed as she tried to wipe at her eyes with those instead.

“What are you doing?” Chaz pressed a hot mug into her hand, looking at her like she had lost her mind. “Wait here.” When she returned again it was with a handful of toilet paper. Sofia wiped at her eyes and then blew her nose. Did the other woman have to look so unbearably beautiful while she was huddled over blowing snot out of her face? It wasn’t fair.

“I am so sorry,” she sniffled, picking up the hot cup of tea and breathing in the steam, “I don’t know what just happened. Thank you for the drink.”

“You’re welcome, now what the hell happened? Last time I saw you you looked ready to have that man’s babies.”

Sofia groaned, taking a deep drink and solace in the burning sensation of the hot liquid in her throat. “God, don’t remind me.”

“I take it you two aren’t in that honeymoon period anymore?”

“Jesus, I’m not sure we ever were,” Sofia’s laugh was without humor. “I am just so _mad_ I could strangle him with that tacky ass gold chain. Who needs a cross that big? Why not just wear a sign around your neck that says ‘Dominican drug lord’?” Chaz snickered and Sofia smiled back. She sighed into her chair, tracing her finger against the mug, “I don’t know what to do Chaz.”

“Honey,” Chaz reached across the small table and took one of Sofia’s hands in hers, “what happened?”

“I don’t _know_. One moment everything was wonderful and the next he’s using me like I’m a…” she trailed off, her gaze sliding away from the other woman.

“It’s okay,” Chaz waved a hand, “you can say it.”

“A whore,” she mumbled into her cup.

“Eh, it’s not usually that bad,” Chaz shrugged, but her eyes were hard. “Did he force you to-?” her tone was careful.

“No!” Sofia burst out, “God no. He didn’t make me do anything. I kind of wish he had. He just said ‘do this’ and I did. I cant even tell myself it was all his fault. I _let_ him use me like that. What is _wrong_ with me?”

Chaz laughed, settling back in her chair and picking up her own mug. “You’re a woman in love with a man. We’re positively stupid where men are concerned. Trust me, I’ve seen girls lose their fucking minds when some hot piece of ass comes into their life - you’re doing fine.”

“I’m not in love with him,” she corrected and at Chaz’s expression, “I’m _not_.”

“You keep telling yourself that, honey.”

“And I don’t feel fine.” Her voice got quiet, “I feel… broken.”

Chaz’s eyes softened and she sighed, “Honey, Nevada is head over heels for you. I’ve known him ten years, I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you.”

Sofia waved her off, “No, I was just some new toy screw around with. I don’t think he wanted to get anything more than that.”

“And what did you get?” Chaz raised one well-manicured eyebrow at her.

“Fifteen minutes of pleasure,” Sofia shrugged before adding, “and probably a lifetime of commitment issues.” Chaz laughed at that - she hadn’t actually been joking but it would probably be even more pathetic to correct her.

“Okay Miss Commitment Issues - what are you going to do about it?”

“Go home. Hide. You know, the usual.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Chaz scoffed, “that’s letting him _win_. Do you want him to win?”

“God no.”

“Then what do you want?”

“What?” Sofia blinked at her.

“If I waved my magical fairy godmother wand right now and made your life perfect, what would happen?”

Sofia thought for a long moment, “I just want to move on with my life. No debt, no Nevada. Just back to how my life was. Before.”

Chaz nodded, her eyes considering, “It’s Tuesday, it’s summer, what would you be doing if you had never met him? And don’t say curled up in bed at home.”

“I’d…” she paused, “I’d probably be at the park. Play some baseball maybe?”

“Good, that right there, that’s what you’re going to do tonight. Play baseball.” She paused, “Baseball, really?”

Sofia groaned, “But I don’t want to-“

“I don’t care,” Chaz stood up, pulling Sofia to her feet and giving her a tight hug. “I have to go, but promise me tonight you’ll do something outside. Something that makes you happy. Call it repayment for the tea.”

Sofia hugged her back fiercely. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

Chaz laughed, “Everyone deserves a friend like me!” She tossed her braids over her shoulder as she sauntered out and Sofia gathered her things. At least she’d get to hit things tonight - that would probably make her feel better now that she thought about it.

 

* * *

 

The night was warm and the late summer sun still colored the sky. Sofia had dirt on her jeans, on her hands and in her hair. They had lost 6-2 and she had enjoyed every moment of it. She felt good, better than she had in months. Hitting things was more therapeutic than she had ever thought it could be. She had resisted the urge to just whale at the ground while waiting in the dugout.

She slung her bat over her shoulder as she waved to her friends at the end of the block. She turned to walk the final ways to her door. Chaz was right - she had needed that. To see her friends and her life the way it was. The world hadn’t ended when she walked into a dark nightclub in the Spring. Oh sure, it had taken a pretty hard turn for a while there, but it hadn’t ended. 

She slowed down as she heard the sounds of voices in the alley ahead. Then a gunshot. Her eyes darted across the street, contemplating running away, but if it was someone who needed help she would never forgive herself. She edged up to the mouth of the alley, poking her head around the corner and tightening her grip on her bat. Her mind registered the all too familiar face and the blood at the same time she registered the gun pointed at his head.


	17. Chapter 17

He stared at his phone, the single letter ’S’ taunting him. He pressed the call button, leaning his elbows on the table and waited.

“What?”

His eye twitched, “I thought I told you not to talk to me like that.”

The phone was silent, he glanced at it but the timer still ticked. “What do you want?” she finally said. She sounded tired.

He shut his eyes, “Come out with me tonight.”

A sigh on the other end, “I don’t want to.”

“I’m not asking.”

He could imagine her face, “Will we be even then?”

He slid the hand with his phone to his forehead, resting there for a moment before returning it. “No.”

“Then no.”

“Listen to me-“ he started but she hung up on him.

Nevada tossed his phone onto the metal desk in front of him. It didn’t fucking matter anyway - there were plenty of girls out there more than willing to take care of him. No reason to spend time on this one. If he kept telling himself that, maybe he’d believe it.

A loud sound from outside pulled him out of his thoughts, banging and then shouting.

“The fuck is happening out here?” he yelled, striding into the other room.

Javier looked at him, “It’s that little thug from Hamilton.”

Nevada considered the man, dressed head to toe in black. He grunted, that look only worked if you committed to it, got your shit tailored, spent some real money. Like he did. Fuck, this kid was practically an off-brand version of him. Was that a thing now?

“You been moving in the Heights?” he asked, bending his head down to look in the man’s eyes.

The man shook his head, going to lift his hands but he was held on each side by Nevada’s men. “I didn’t do anything…”

“You send your boys up here with your product telling people my shit is _shit_. You have the nerve - the _nerve -_ to come into my house and move in _my_ territory?”

“No no no-“

“What makes you think you can do this? What makes you think you can do these things with impunity.” He’d always liked that word, the the way it rolled through his teeth. He flicked his fingers towards the waiting men, “Teach him a lesson, drop him back in Harlem.”

He heard the shouting as they drug him out the back. A younger Nevada would have killed him for the encroachment - but he’d just be replaced with some equally stupid wannabe with less fear than sense. It was better to have the man who remembered just _why_ exactly you didn’t want to come up to the Heights.

 

* * *

 

Nevada followed the man in front of him closely as they crossed through the large dockside warehouse. He kept his stride loose, wrapping himself in the insolence he wore like armor.

“Pistono!” he called out, spotting the larger man at the far side of the space.

“Ramirez,” Mikhail Pistono turned, a wide grin crossing his face, “you got your guys ready? I heard there was a little problem with delivery.”

Nevada tsked under his breath, “It’s been handled.”

They watched the forklifts move into the building from the side door, followed by several large delivery trucks. 

“This is going to make us very rich.” Pistono stated, almost rubbing his hands together in glee.

“We’ll make enough,” Nevada said in response.

Pistono laughed, clapping across the back, “It’s going to be the deal of a lifetime. A lifetime I tell you. You sure you’ll be here for it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh I don’t know, on a date?”

Nevada froze, his expression carefully blank. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Pistono snorted, “That new girl of yours is running you all over town. They say she’s got you by the shorthairs. You can’t control her.”

Nevada gritted his teeth, “I can control my woman.”

“We all fall into the honeypot occasionally, just mind you don’t drown in there eh Ramirez?”

The corner of his eye twitched, “My head is exactly where it should be.”

The look the other man gave him was considering, “They say you’re going soft Ramirez.”

“They can go fuck themselves. Tell them to try me and see how soft I’ve gotten.”

Pistono smiled, “They they they - always some little runt around looking to take over the business.” He was all joviality now, “You and I? We’ll be here til we’re dead. They can all go fuck themselves eh?”

Nevada nodded, seething inside but giving the other man a mocking half-smile.

 

* * *

 

That night, Nevada walked the streets alone, something he rarely did. The phone in his pocket buzzed but he ignored it. He had spent the day losing himself in the work, the thing he loved. And yet, every time he turned his head he could swear he saw her in the corner of his eye.

Fuck, this had never happened to him before.

Women were beautiful and soft and he loved them for it - but they were just women. If one put up a fuss about something there would be five more behind her waiting to make him feel better - for a small fee of course. Maybe it was drugs, or money or just being able to say they had his protection - but they were always there, waiting. This time was no different, the girls could smell the blood in the water as soon as word spread about that pendejo taking Sofia…

 _Sofia_.

He hooked his thumbs in his belt, turning on the next street. She had never asked him for anything for herself. In nearly three months the only thing she had ever asked for was for Emmanuel, that very first night. He cut across the empty street, taking the next turn. He should have given her diamonds. She’d look great in diamonds. Or new clothes, something that slid across her skin like silk instead of the threadbare cotton she always wore.

Hell, if he was looking for ways to tie her to him he should have just flat out tied her to his bed. He could have, no one would have said anything - not to him. Her only family in the hospital, he could have done whatever he wanted with her. Still could probably. She wouldn’t be able to go with anyone else then either. She would be his - ready to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. 

It wasn’t an unpleasant thought.

The cracks on the sidewalk were suddenly familiar and he looked up to find himself in front of her building. Fuck, now wasn’t that just pathetic. He turned to go, saw a man approaching from the other direction and turned quickly the other way and ducked into the side alley. If word got out he had been moping around outside of Sofia’s apartment he would never hear the end of it. His reputation in the Heights would be ruined. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as he watched the figure pass by the end of the alley. He took a long drag, leaning his head back against the brick.

“Hey, Ramirez.” He looked up to find himself staring down the barrel of the Les Baer 1911. 

It was a terrible choice of gun for a back alley shooting - far too loud and not common enough to make matching the bullet to the gun even a little difficult for the cops afterwards. It would have to be ditched, and that was an expensive weapon to be ditching.

An amateur then - or a professional with a vendetta. He didn’t think he recognized the man, but with the hood of his coat pulled up there was no telling really. He took a drag on the cigarette, “Is there something I can help you with?”

The barrel of the gun wavered slightly. An amateur for sure, a professional would have killed him by now. “Mikhail says to back off.”

Nevada pulled a face, “Mikhail? Mikhail and I are partners. I’ve made him a lot of money. What are you even doing?”

“That’s my message for you, Mikhail says back off.”

He went to push the edges of his coat back, rest his hands on his hips but that motherfucker _shot_ him. 

“Fuck you man, what is wrong with you?” He pressed his hand to his shoulder, feeling the blood seep out from his fingers. No exit wound, shit. “You shoot someone in daylight? Eight stories of windows and witnesses straight up?” It was almost insulting to think of dying in this little back alley at the hands of this idiot.

The man glanced up and Nevada lunged towards him, grabbing for the weapon. He swung with his good arm but his attacker punched him square in the bullet wound - he howled, seeing stars and held onto consciousness by a thread. The man raised the gun, aiming for his head this time. He was not going to die here. He refused.

_thwhack_

The sound was wetter than he might have imagined and the man in front of him dropped like - well - like he’d just been hit upside the head with a baseball bat. Behind him, Sofia stood with a stunned look on her face, her eyes fixed on the body at her feet.

“Nice hit cariño,” he said, swaying slightly before dropping to his knees. The last thing he saw was her drop the bat and hurry towards him, the concern in her eyes making his lips curl upwards in satisfaction.

 


	18. Chapter 18

He’d fainted. God, she couldn’t believe he had actually fainted. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so horrifying. Sofia rushed over, catching him as he pitched forward. On her knees with him, she heard a low groan from behind her. Well, at least she hadn’t killed that guy but she really didn’t want the two of them to be there when he woke up. She shook Nevada, breathing a sigh of relief when his eyes fluttered open.

“We have to go,” she urged, pulling him by his good arm. He stumbled to his feet, leaning on her shoulder as she guided him out of the alley. Her apartment was just down the street and she led him that direction, casting her eyes back towards the alley waiting for his attacker to come out any moment. What was Nevada even doing here alone?

She half carried him up the stairs, tucking herself under his good arm and supporting across his back as best she was able. She could feel warm stickiness against her fingers and wonder at how much blood he might be losing. She leaned him against the wall by her door, opening it and pulling him inside before her neighbors could notice. He left a streak of blood on the wall behind him and she made a mental note to clean it later.

Inside the apartment, she flicked the lights on and guided him to her small kitchen table. Dropping into a chair he struggled to take his jacket off, cursing and grunting loudly while she did her best to help. Once successful she laid it across the table and did the only thing she could think of, what her abuelita had taught her, “Can I get you anything?”

He grunted, pressing at his shoulder with his fingertips. “Whiskey.”

She checked her cabinets, pulling out a bottle of Smirnoff left over from some party years ago. “Is vodka okay?” He nodded and she handed him the bottle, a little concerned when he tipped it to his mouth and gulped three large swallows.

“Fuck,” he gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She took the bottle back, setting it on the table next to him before moving into her bathroom.

“Where are you going?” He called after her and she poked her head back, motioning for him to stay put.

“I’m getting some things, you need to be looked after. “

He settled back in the chair, his eyes fixed on the doorway when she came back a few minutes later. She laid out a towel, and then a set of tweezers, some cotton balls, sterile pads, an ace bandage. She also laid out a small sewing kit but she was more hesitant about it - moving it to the far side of the other items. He took another long drink. “Do you play nurse a lot?”

She ignored the question, pulling a chair out to sit across from him. Settling back, she crossing her arms and her legs, and watched him. He squirmed under her gaze, taking another swallow of the harsh liquor. “What are you looking at, Sofia?” He snapped his hand forward, nearly losing his grip on the bottle, “You think I don’t know? Do you think I am some pinche idiota who doesn’t know what’s going on?” She didn’t say anything, watching him swing the bottle in front of his chest. “They say I can’t handle my woman. That I’ve gone soft. I don’t feel soft,” he made a face at her that she supposed was meant to be sexy but under the circumstances wasn’t even close. “Some little concha on 144th thinks he can move into my territory, I have to teach him a lesson. Says he heard I don’t care about the business anymore.”

His fingers on the bottle were getting looser and she watched his face with narrowed eyes ready to spring forward if he looked likely to lose his grip, “Business is business. You are business. Good fucking business, but business.” He took another drink, coughing and setting the bottle back on the table heavily. “You _were_ business. I don’t know what fucking happened, but you’re not anymore.”

She got up then, reaching out to press her fingers against the pulse at his neck. It was slow and steady and he looked up at her with clouded eyes. 

“I miss you.”

She swallowed, not answering him - not sure what she would say if she did - and reached out to peel the sticky shirt away from his shoulder. He hissed but stayed steady, his voice low and tight, “I think you enjoy hurting me.” 

She shook her head, “Between the two of us I really don’t think you are the one who gets to say that.” He snorted at her but didn’t reply.

She reached for the bottle and hesitated briefly before pouring a generous amount of the vodka over the wound. “ _Cabron_ ,” he shouted, trying to leap out of the chair but was held down by her hand on his good shoulder. She wasn’t sure if the vodka did anything, but she’d seen it done a hundred time in the movies and figured it couldn’t hurt. She handed the bottle back to him, pressing it to his lips.

“Are you getting me drunk so you can murder me?”

She smiled a little at that, “If I wanted you dead I’d have left you in that alley.” The comment brought him up short. She picked up the tweezers and, as gently as possible, slid them into the weeping wound on his shoulder. He lurched forward and she pulled back, scraping the edge of the gash in her haste. She pushed him back again, sitting astride his lap to hold him down.

“Drink,” she ordered, and he leaned against her as he brought the bottle up. She positioned the tweezers and this time, the combination of the alcohol and her weight on him held him mostly still while she searched the wound for the bullet. After a few long minutes she felt it and slowly and carefully pulled it out. He sighed when he saw it and she dropped it onto the towel next to her. Taking the bottle back, she washed the wound again before patting at it with the clean cotton she had brought out. It wasn’t bleeding much, she was pretty sure she’d do more harm than good trying to stitch it, so she covered it with a sterile sheet instead, wrapping the bandage around him to keep it in place. Finished, she sat back a little to see her work, checking if there was anything more that needed to be done.

His good hand was on her waist, his fingers slipping under the edge of her pants while he pressed his face against her neck. “Te necesito mi amor,” he murmured, sucking on her skin. She froze, shutting her eyes and praying for strength. He continued to speak against her skin. How he’d missed her, how he needed her, how he wanted to love her.

Sofia considered herself to be a strong person, but if there was one thing she had discovered in the last few months it was that she was an utter disaster when it came to Nevada Ramirez. She wanted him, even still. Even after what he had done - even knowing the things she did. She wanted him and she hated herself for it. She turned her head to his, feeling him place sloppy kisses along her cheek until he could thrust his tongue into her mouth. She threaded her fingers into his hair, careful of his shoulder.

He was hard between her thighs and she stood up, slipping out of her faded jeans. He unbuckled his belt and she slid into his lap again as he pulled his cock free. Reaching down, she guided him inside her. He groaned, thrusting up into her roughly but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “No, let me…” she trailed off, slowly rising above him and sinking down again with care. 

His eyes on hers seemed both lost and focused, like she was the only thing in the world that was real. She pressed her mouth against his, lips gentle. They rocked against each other slowly, kissing almost chastely and still nearly clothed. She stroked his neck and he whispered sweet words into her lips for long heartbeats.

She made love to him in that chair - remembering every time he had fucked her and replacing it with this moment instead. And in the end, when he arched against her and yelled his love for her she enjoyed her own quieter moment - biting back his name.

He fell asleep slumped against her while she held him and stroked her hands down his back. When his pocket began to buzz she pulled the phone free and answered. Ten minutes later two burly men showed at her door and carried him away - to get stitches and real medical attention she hoped. 

She cleaned the blood off the hallway after they left and thought about the bullet lying on her kitchen table.


	19. Chapter 19

Stefan looked hesitant as he opened the door to Nevada’s office for the day - a quiet room above a Chinese restaurant that smelled like fish and burnt oil. “Boss? Someone just dropped this off for you.”

He raised an eyebrow and motioned him into the room, setting aside the forged customs documents for the shipment that was coming in that evening. His brain was a little fuzzy from the morphine the night before - and this morning. His shoulder throbbed and he mentally calculated if he could have another dose and still get any work done. He should have just stayed home - but there were too many questions out there already about whether or not he was going soft. Getting shot had actually been good for his current image problem. Word had spread fast about the incident and when he showed up to his meetings this morning they couldn’t seem to keep from staring at the edge of the crisp white bandage peeking from his collar. He’d left his jacket off, undoing another button of his shirt to make it easier to spot.

“Who?” he asked as he took the small object from the man’s hand.

“Some kid. Didn’t give a name but he knew who to look for to find you.”

Nevada nodded, waving the man away. He ran his fingers along the edge of the box, noting the festive bow. It was too small to be dangerous, probably not an explosive, which left the possibility that it was a genuine gift. He didn’t get gifts often, in fact ever - and while this one seemed a little strange he felt something unfurl in his gut that he couldn’t name. Holding the box in one hand, he gently pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid off carefully. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he was caught by surprise regardless. Inside was a single bullet, tinted red. He pulled it out and examined it for a moment, wondering if this was intended to be a threat. Underneath was a card and he lifted it gently with two fingers. 

_one favor, paid in full_

The looping ’S’ under the words was the only signature but he didn’t need it to know who the gift was from. He pressed the note between his fingers, tapping it against his bottom lip as he stared thoughtfully into the distance.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant on 129th was nearly empty the next day when Nevada walked in, flanked by four of his biggest men. They had been a purely aesthetic choice, but it made an impression. Every one of them was packing heat as well, including Nevada. The man cleaning the bar reached down and Nevada held a hand up to him, “He’s expecting me.”

At the back, out of sight from the main dining area, Mikhail Pistono was eating lunch, two of his men standing in the entryway. When he saw Nevada he waved his men to the side, “Let him through, let him through.”

Nevada took the seat across from him, leaning back in the wooden chair with as much insolence as he could muster. The morphine made him slow so he had skipped that morning. He regretted it but he couldn’t afford to be muddled for this.

“Ramirez, to what do I owe the pleasure? Delivery is still going okay?” Pistono wiped at his face, smearing the sauce in his beard. Nevada blanched internally, disgusted.

“The delivery is fine. I met a friend of yours the other night.”

“Did you now?” Pistono didn’t seem concerned. He picked up his fork, gesturing towards Nevada, “Did you two have a lot to talk about?”

“Yes, friendly guy, expensive taste.”

“I heard. You know my people, our taste runs to expensive wine, expensive food,” the other man paused here, for effect, and Nevada resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “not expensive accessories.”

Nevada leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, repressing a wince at the movement. “Oh, he was quite adamant about who his friends were.”

“Nevada, Nevada, Nevada - everyone is my friend, you know that. But I promise you,” at this he leaned across the table too, all signs of joviality draining from his face, “if I had wanted you taken care of you would be. I didn’t do this. We are businessmen, not family.”

Nevada stared at him a long minute. “Maybe not, but between partners I do think you might want to consider a… reparation of sorts? As a show of good faith before the delivery happens.”

Pistono leaned back, clasping his hands over his girth. “He’s at the hospital now, not quite untouchable but not really worth the effort either. When he’s out he’ll go on a trip. Will that be enough?”

Nevada’s eyes narrowed, “For now.”

“Good, good. Try the schnitzel Ramirez, it’s to die for.”

 

* * *

 

On the street later that day, Nevada listened to Martin give the run down on who was buying what and who was owing more than they had. “Yo dude, I heard you got shot.”

He kept his face impassive and didn’t answer.

“S’cool, s’cool man. I get it. You look good.”

“Anything else?” Nevada turned away.

“Naw, naw. We’re all good here. Sorry to hear about you girl though man, that sucks.” The kid drew out the ‘uh’ in the word.

Nevada growled low in his throat. If one more person mentioned Sofia with another man to him he was going to commit a murder. His eye twitched and he contemplated doing some injury in the meantime. But between his shoulder and not wanting to get his hands dirty he settled on saying, in the most threatening tone he had, “What _my girl_ and I get up to is not your business.”

“Whoa man, no need to get angry, just gotta be rough when your girl gets sent up like that.”

“What?” Nevada snapped, spinning back so quickly he got dizzy.

The kid held his hands up, backing away a couple of steps. “Your girl, that Sofie chick, cops got her last night.”

“What for?” Nevada bit out.

“Assault I think? Hit some dude with a baseball bat. Put him in the hospital.”

Nevada mentally cursed. Fuck, he should have realized. If he hadn’t been on so much morphine he would have. Could have taken care of it. For fuck’s sake he hadn’t spared her more than a thought as he took care of his business - assumed she was okay.

He spun on Joaquin. “Get my cousin on the phone,” he snapped, jerking the door to the Escalade open and climbing inside. He checked his watch, the police van to Riker’s would have left at 11am, more than six hours ago. She had already been processed, would have been put into a holding by now. Even if he could get the complicated legal machinery moving today there was no way she wasn’t going to spend the night there. 

He thought of her with that baseball bat, standing over him like an avenging angel - like his own personal Valkyrie.

_Fuck_.


	20. Chapter 20

The court-appointed lawyer folded his hands across the file in front of him, staring at her across the table. They were in a holding cell, and she was handcuffed to a bracket in the center of the small space. She’d been at Riker’s for the last three days - her arraignment being pushed back twice already. “They have witnesses that put you on the street that night and they have a baseball bat that _literally_ has your name on it at the crime scene with no clear fingerprints but yours. You are going to go to jail for aggravated assault and battery for the next three to five years. Tell me _something_ that can help you - an alibi, anything.”

She thought of Nevada and dug her fingernails into her palms, “Nothing. I was at the park and then I went home alone.”

Her lawyer sighed, “This isn’t good Ms Lopez. Can you at least claim self-defense? Did he attack you?”

She considered that, “He was attacking someone else.”

The man in the suit looked up, “Someone else? There was no one in the alley when the paramedics arrived, the police didn’t see anyone.”

“He shot someone, so I hit him.”

“Who did he shoot?”

She glared at him, “I don’t know, I don’t know what happened to him.”

When Detectives Peron and Wilson had knocked on her door, she had assumed it was about Nevada. It had taken her nearly fifteen minutes downtown, in the same small interview room, to realize that they were asking about her assault, not his. It wasn’t until they had dropped her bat in front of her, sealed into a clear evidence bag, that she had begun to get some conception that she wasn’t there as a witness. When they charged her she had been stunned, not resisting when they cuffed her hands behind her back.

Detective Wilson had pushed her gently into the holding cell - looking directly into her eyes as he said, “I tried to help you.”

“Do you remember anything at all about this man? Height, weight, hair color?” her lawyer was speaking.

“No no no,” she shook her head, “I am not going to owe _him_ , not again.”

He blinked at her, “You would honestly rather go to prison?”

“ _Yes_.” It was emphatic and her lawyer gave her a look that clearly said he thought she was crazy. That sentiment seemed to be going around. They might be right.

She sighed, leaning her face down to the cool table. This was just great. She was going to go to jail for saving the life of Nevada Ramirez.  

It would have been funny if it was happening to someone else.

“Maybe,” her lawyer was saying, looking at her as he chewed on the end of his pen, “maybe I can do something with you instead. Do you have anything that makes you look younger? Smaller?”

 

* * *

 

“Your honor, look at my client. Even _if_ any such action was taken by her against the supposed victim it obviously must have been in self-defense. The detectives on this case rushed to judgment on this without stopping to ascertain the facts.”

Sofia kept her head lowered, her eyes downcast as her lawyer had told her to. She was wearing the light summer dress she had bought to wear for Nevada, a pale pink cardigan buttoned up over it to disguise the flirty cut.  The irony of the outfit did not escape her but it was the only thing she had that fit her attorney’s very specific requirements. Her hair was in a high ponytail and by her own estimation she looked about fifteen.

They were past the ‘not-guilty’ plea and arguing about bail. She didn’t know why he bothered, there was no way she was going to be able to pay it no matter what the number was. 

The slick man standing at the table next theirs barely looked up as he droned, “The defendant slammed a man upside the head with a baseball bat, she’s a threat to the community.”

“My client has _strong ties_ to the community,” her lawyer butted in, “she tutors children in the neighborhood and her grandmother is being treated at New York Presbyterian.”

“Be that as it may,” the judge cut in, “bail is set for-“

“Your honor!” a new voiced cut in, a man in a three piece suit and carrying a briefcase strode down the aisle and to the small group - trailing behind him was Detective Wilson.

“What the hell are you doing Mike?” the prosecutor asked him and he brushed him off.

“Your honor may we approach the bench?”

The judge waved them forward and they and the two lawyers stepped up to speak in hushed tones. Sofia heard her name mentioned, then the prosecutor seemed to get very angry. The new man reached into his briefcase, handing a file to the judge while motioning for Detective Wilson to say something. Her own lawyer looked like he had just won the lottery.

When they came back to the table Sofia turned, started to ask a question, but he waved her silent. 

“Given the new evidence presented here today I am dismissing all charges against Sofia Lopez. Ms Lopez you are free to go with the courts’ apologies.” The gavel banged down and Sofia jumped.

“What just happened?” she asked, watching the prosecutor storm out.

“You must have a very good guardian angel Ms Lopez, that man who walked in, that’s Michael Ramirez - probably the best ADA in Manhattan. He brought in a signed confession and Detective Wilson corroborated. They have a man in custody and he’s pleading no contest to the assault charges.”

“Who?”

“Joaquin Sanchez.”

 

* * *

 

Sofia was livid when she walked down the courthouse steps, her slightly too small shoes clicking angrily along with her. She spotted the dark SUV on the street immediately and took an abrupt turn, cutting through a small stand of grass to the side street. A few moments later the SUV pulled up next to her, the window down.

“Get in the car Sofia.”

“No.”

“Get in the car and we can talk.”

She ignored him, walking faster. 

The vehicle stopped and Nevada climbed out, the tone of his voice clearly identifying that he was well on his way to losing his temper, “Cariño come back here and talk to me.”

“No.”

“Sofia-“

“ _I don’t want to talk to you_!” she whirled on him. “I didn’t ask you to do this for me. I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t want to owe you anything anymore. I don’t want to be near you, just _go away_.” 

He froze on the pavement, staring at her.

Her chest heaved, her hands clenched into fists. Tears stung at her eyes and she blinked them back. She would be _damned_ before she cried in front of him.

He took a careful step towards her and she lifted her chin, refusing to move. His voice was slow, careful, “If you’re worried about Joaquin, he volunteered. We needed someone new inside, get some deals, fresh blood. He was happy to go.”

“I _liked_ Joaquin,” she gritted out. 

“And he liked you,” he pushed his coat back settling his hands on his hips and she noted the stiff way he moved one arm. She was not going to ask him about it. “It’s okay amorcita, we can put all of this behind us. I am not an unkind man. I forgive you for what you did, let’s just go-“

“You _forgive_ me?” She cut him off, stepping towards him angrily and noting with gratification his quick step away. “And what, _exactly_ , did I do to warrant a need for _forgiveness_.”

His jaw clenched. “I want to move past this Sofia.”

“Then tell me.”

“You fucked him.”

Sofia jerked her head back, staring at him in bewilderment before she started laughing. She sounded hysterical, she knew she did, and the wide-eyed look of apprehension on his face told her he thought she’d lost her mind. “Is that what all of that was about, you think I slept with someone else?”

“He goes into your apartment, doesn’t leave until the next morning?” He was speaking through gritted teeth, “I know you did but I can forgive that-”

“He is my neighbor’s nephew! He _literally_ lives next door. Jesus Nevada, that _is_ what this was about. You think that I would sleep with someone else? That I would even want to after we-” She cut herself off. “You’re insane.”

“You were kissing him on the street, I saw you.”

“ _Once!_ He kissed me _once_ ,” she shouted. “And you’re one to talk when you’re shoving your tongue down the throat of any whore who offers.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you too, at the club. Some chica on your lap. You had your hands all over her.”

“That’s business amorcita, just one girl-”

“It was not! Two days later you were kissing some _other_ girl on the street, all pressed up against her - and I’m not even allowed to go on a _date_?”

His eyes narrowed into slits, “That’s different.”

“No, it’s _not_. That’s the problem. It’s not different and you think it is.” Her shoulders slumped, “I never had any expectation that you were mine Nevada, not really. But I don’t understand why you thought that meant I was somehow yours.”

“You _are_ mine,” jaw clenched, denying her.

“I don’t belong to you.” Her voice was soft but forceful. Velvet over steel. “God fucking _dammit_ Nevada I am not some trophy you can place on a shelf and rub one out on whenever you feel like it. I’m a _person_.”

He stepped towards her and she knew he was going to kiss her. Maybe because he wanted to and maybe just to shut her up. Her traitorous body swayed forward even as she forced her feet to move backwards. “No. Don’t you _dare_ touch me right now. You _hurt_ me.” The tears that sprang to her eyes choked her, “I don’t think you understand that. I trusted you. I wanted to trust you and you _used me_ Nevada. I have never felt as awful as I did that night. Everything we had seemed so bright and beautiful, and then it was so terrible and I can’t… I can’t let you do that to me again.” She drew her shoulders back, “I won’t.”

He was frozen in place, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He seemed to struggle to find the words he was looking for. “I don’t… I want you. I want you with me.”

“You don’t want me,“ she replied, “you don’t even know me.”

“I know that you hate the mornings,” he said softly, “that you talk in your sleep about the neighborhood kids. I know you love your abuelita, that your work three jobs to pay her bills.” He stepped towards her, frowning when she stepped back again. “I know your body, I know the way you heart beats faster when I say your name. I _know_ _you_ Sofia.”

Her gaze was steady on his. “What’s my favorite color?”

His lips pressed together and he didn’t respond.

“I’ll make it simpler, what kind of flowers do I like? That’s something a _lover_ should know, right?” the word was a sneer in her mouth as she stepped toward him. “Name one book in my apartment. You’ve been there, it should be easy. What music do I listen do, what kind of dancing do I like? Do I even _like_ to dance?” She was within arm’s reach now, “You know the girl you created, the girl you wanted, the girl I _made myself_ for you.”

He reached out and cupped her cheeks - his mouth pressing hers and she cried out against him, clutching her hands into the fabric of his shirt and returning the kiss for a moment before roughly shoving him away.

“You don’t know _me_. I’m not really sure you deserve to.”

When she walked away from him she didn’t look back.


	21. Chapter 21

She spent the weekend in bed, alternating between crying and angrily eating an entire cheesecake. She would liked to have believed this was a one time thing - but honestly it was already the second time this month. Valeria had told her it was okay, come in on Monday and she could pick up an extra shift later. She was grateful.

Chaz showed up on Sunday, full of hugs and kind words. Asking her what it was like to be a jailbird now - did she get a prison tattoo, a girlfriend? Sofia laughed and hugged her tight, giving her the beautiful silver dress back and good riddance. Chaz’s eyes were sad when she left.

“I was really rooting for you two.”

Sofia only smiled at her softly, shutting the door and leaning against it. Her phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out. _Him_. She shut her eyes, letting it ring until it was silent - taking the total now to five missed calls. 

This week was going to be better. It had to be. It just _had_ to be.

On Monday is was roses. One dozen deep red roses delivered to her door as she was walking out. She knocked on Maria Jose’s door and thanked her for setting her up with Santiago. Yes, it was a shame that hadn’t worked out - but she knew this great girl who would be perfect for him. Her name was Chaz and she’d be sure to pass the number along. Would Maria Jose like these roses? They were beautiful but she just had no where to keep them.

On Tuesday is was lilies, handed to her by a stuttering young man as she exited the market. She smiled at him, thanked him profusely, and promptly gave them to the pregnant lady who exited after her. She complimented the little girl hiding behind the woman’s skirt - who it turned out was also named Lily. Because sometimes the universe just made sense like that. 

On Wednesday it was tulips, on Thursday orchids, and on Friday daisies - all delivered to her at the restaurant. She made a show of giving those away to her customers, one by one until the sad remnants were thrown out without care. And even if one orchid made it’s way home with her to sit on her bedside table, well that was her business and no one else’s.

The cards she saved though, palming them when she was sure no one was looking.

The weekend brought with it stacks of books. Paperback romances and cracked leather biographies and everything in between. Some were new, bestsellers she had seen in the shop window, and some were so old she wondered at what they must have cost. Each came wrapped in a different colored bow and rather than discard them she tied each of the lengths of ribbon outside her bedroom window, bright streamers fluttering in the summer sunlight. Sometimes, when she was leaning from the window with the cloth in her hand she thought she saw him on the street outside, but when she turned her head there was never anyone there.

Not a one of the books was a crime novel.

The phone calls she ignored, unsure of what she would say. She saw him once, as she was crossing the street and he stepped out of the bodega on the next corner. Their eyes met for a moment before he slid his away, and she continued as though he wasn’t there. That night, she received a new baseball bat - ‘To keep you safe’ the note said. It was solid wood with a bright bow on it. She laughed and set it by the door, but tied the blood red ribbon around her wrist.

 

* * *

 

When the invitation came to meet at the Ziegfeld Ballroom Dance Studio, Sofia was prepared. She strode purposefully up the steps outside, pulling the door to the small side studio open unsure of what she might find. Nevada stood in the middle of the room with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. His leather jacket was tossed over a small stool next to a man who seemed very confused about what exactly he had been hired for.

“What are you doing?”

Nevada’s eyes darted from the floor up to hers, he seemed surprised to see her. “Dancing lessons. I thought you might like this. It seemed elegant,” he paused, “like you.”

She shook her head, “No I mean, what are you doing with everything. The flowers, the books…”

Nevada looked from her to the dance instructor. “Get out,” he ordered and the other man’s relief was palpable as he darted out the door, almost knocking her over in his haste. Nevada scuffed his foot against the floor, looking for all the world like a child who had been caught where he shouldn’t, “I thought this was what you wanted. I thought you wanted me to get to know you. I didn’t, I mean, I don’t know how else to do it - you won’t talk to me.”

She leaned against the door jam, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you thought the solution was to throw everything at me and see what sticked?”

“It-” he hesitated, “It was the best plan I had.”

She had to laugh at that, he looked so unlike himself, in the middle of the dance studio. His eyes met hers, confused and a little annoyed. _There_ , there was the Nevada she had fallen for. The one who didn’t like being laughed at and didn’t let her pretend to be what she wasn’t. She pushed at him, “I didn’t ask for any of this Nevada, I never wanted anything from you after that first night.”

“I know.”

“So why-?”

He sighed, pulling his hands from his pockets and running his palms down his thighs. “You’re right, I don’t know what you want. I don’t know you very well at all. But I know I _want_ to know you. I want to…” He trailed off, looking up at her from under his heavy eyebrows, “I want to deserve you.”

She felt tears prickle under her eyelids and she blinked them back. He was a hot mess, he really was, but by god he was _her_ mess. She pushed away from the wall, reaching a hand out to him. “Come with me.” He followed her without question, letting her lead him from the studio and into the warm summer night.


	22. Chapter 22

Nevada was not really a dancer, at least not in the way he knew other people managed it. His main move had always been to get as close as possible to a woman and just, well, grind on her for lack of a better word. The heavy bass of the nightclubs he preferred was perfect for that sort of thing and he had always thought, when push came to shove, that he preferred that. 

The thrumming beat of the bar should not have been so foreign to him. He knew the song that was playing from the radio, and he knew some of the faces in the crowd - although they seemed anywhere from shocked to upset to see him here, on their turf. The dance floor was outside, long strings of lights criss-crossing over their heads. Whomever was singing was having trouble keeping his woman and the guitar accompaniment played around his concerns. It was soulful, it was light, it was salsa.

Sofia held him by his fingertips of one hand at first, her hips and her feet moving dizzyingly fast. It took her only a moment to realize he was completely lost and she smoothly slid up to him, her hands moving to his waist to guide him. “Watch my feet,” she shouted into his ear, trying to be heard over the music. He picked the basics up quickly, his good arm locking behind her back as she swayed her hips in time with his. The warm night breeze blew against the back of his neck and he watched it lift the long strands of her hair, tickling across her face. She was flushed and laughing, her thumbs brushing against his sides as she corrected his count and chided him for nearly stepping on her toes. 

They danced for what felt like hours, couples coming and going around them, before the music changed. Slowing down as he pulled her closer to him so that her hips were flush against his. Her hands came up to hook around his neck and she leaned her body away from him, using her hold on him to steady herself. She arched her neck back, her lips slightly parted as she sang along and he held her tight to him as he watched her lose herself to the music.

It was, without a doubt, the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

She opened her eyes, blinking a moment before focusing on him. She pulled on him and he leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed again and she stroked her fingertips against the back of his neck. The red ribbon tied around her wrist was distracting him. He had recognized it immediately but wasn’t sure what it to think of it Was it a signal? A sign? Was he supposed to just know what it meant somehow?

The scent of lemons rose off of her skin and he sighed - ignoring that they were now alone on the dance floor, that the music had stopped, and there was a man over her right shoulder getting increasingly irate that he couldn’t mop where they were standing.

She pulled away from him slightly, laughing when he tightened his grip on her waist. “Let’s get out of here.” Oh, that sounded like a much better idea. She slid her hand into his, leading him up the short stairs, through the dark restaurant and into the street. She paused outside, leaning her head back. “You can see stars tonight, you can almost never see stars.”

His eyes were on her face, “Beautiful.” When she glanced back at him and caught him staring she blushed.

She squeezed his hand, pulling him over to her side and leading him down the street. She leaned against his arm, her head on his shoulder and neither said a thing as he walked her the few blocks back to her apartment. In front of the building he stopped, letting her pull away from him.

“When can I see you again?” his hands were in his pockets, something he had found himself doing more and more since he had met her. He’d decided it was defensive, the only way he could be near her without putting his hands all over her.

She studied him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“If I said never - what would you say?”

His heart stopped beating for a moment and he tried to shrug nonchalantly, “I’d find more flowers.”

“But you wouldn’t go away?”

His eyes met hers, “Never.”

She seemed to consider that for a long moment, her hands coming up to cross under her breasts. He tried not to follow the motion, tried to focus on what she was saying.

“I like this new Nevada, don’t get me wrong, he’s very nice. And the flowers and the books and everything are all… nice.” She wasn’t looking at him, studying the toe of her shoe instead and he wondered where this was going, “But I kind of miss the old Nevada, the Nevada I-“

_Oh thank god_ \- he might have said it out loud - and he pulled her to him, spinning to pin her against the old Chrysler parked at the curb. His mouth was on hers in a heartbeat, his tongue slipping between her lips as he clutched her body to his. 

When his hands had lost their frenzy and they had calmed into soft casual kisses and slight moans she pulled away from him, breathless. “…the Nevada I fell in love with,” she finished.

He froze, he knew he shouldn’t. His brain overloaded with the literally hundreds of better responses to that sentence, but in reality he froze - his eyes locked on hers. The soft smile on her lips frightened him a little and her hand on his cheek, thumb gently stroking him soothingly did nothing to calm the suddenly erratic beat of his heart.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she smiled at him, “it’s a gift. I don’t expect anything from you. But I wanted you to know.”

He kissed her again rather than try to find words, feeling the fluttering of her hands on his skin, the noises she made in the back of her throat, the way she pulled him tight against her and he felt it, in his bones.

It was terrifying.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Sofia floated through the next day. Her morning shift at the diner passing by in a haze and she blushed after the third person pointed out that she was humming as she cleared the tables. She blushed, but she didn’t stop.

The smile stretched her whole face as she stopped at the street vendor and picked out a small bouquet. The woman smiled back, “Son éstos para usted?”

Sofia shook her head, “No, mi abuelita. En el hospital.”

“No,” the vendor held a hand up as Sofia counted out her money, “los tome.”

“Oh I can’t do that,” Sofia demurred, trying to force the small wad of bills at the woman but she just continued to shake her head.

“Tell your Abuelita I hope she is okay.”

Sofia thanked her, tucking the flowers into the crook of her arm and humming to herself as she continued down the street. 

The hospital was strangely quiet as Sofia made her way down the hallway. The usual hustle and bustle of the wing was dimmer, almost expectant. She waved to the nurse at the front desk - but the sad look she got in return made her feet move quicker. The curtains to the small shared room were pulled closed and Sofia felt her heart catch in her throat as she pushed the door open.

“Abuelita…?”

The doctor and nurse in the room looked up as she walked in, but the form on the bed didn’t move. “Is she?” she asked before realizing that she could still hear the beeps of the machines, steady and comforting.

“I think she’s been waiting for you,” the nurse whispered to her and she crossed to the bed, setting the flowers down on the side table and taking the frail hand into her own.

The old woman’s eyes opened, staring off into the distance before slowly focusing. “Sofia?”

She swallowed hard, feeling tears begin to well up, “I’m here Abuelita, I’m right here.”

The smile on her face was small, strained, and when Sofia squeezed her hand the return was weak. “I wanted to see you…”

“I’m here,” she choked on it this time, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Thank you,” her gasps was coming shorter now, “thank you for coming.”

Sofia took a shuddering breath and held her hand tightly, leaning down to whisper into her ear. The old lady smiled at what she said, so beautifully bright the room seemed to light up. “Oh Sofia,” she said, “You are so much like your mother.”

Sofia felt the tears slip onto her cheeks, clutching the hand in hers. “I love you.” The beeping of the machine became more erratic. “Abuelita?” she cried and resisted as the nurse pushed her away. The doctor and nurse were talking quickly to each other as the machine’s beeping got louder.

 And then stopped. She barely felt the nurse take her in his arms, turning her away as they pronounced the official time and date.

The Chaplain talked to her for a long time. He offered to take her home, his eyes kind on hers but she refused. Walking out of the hospital for the last time she took a deep breath of the summer air, it was bright and beautiful. Abuelita would have wanted that. Abuelita loved the sun, loved the smells of the city in summer. Even the awful ones.

Sofia tucked her hands in her pocket as she turned onto 168th, blinking hard even though she knew it was a losing battle. Abuelita loved everything.

With tears fogging her eyes she didn’t notice the black SUV that pulled up next to her, or the two men that quickly got out. When they grabbed her her first thought was that she was going to kill him. He didn’t get to just abduct her from the street whenever he felt like it regardless of anything else that might be happening between them. But when the doors slammed shut and she got a good look at the person in the backseat she realized that these weren’t Nevada’s men - and that certainly wasn’t him sitting next to her.

 

* * *

 

“What is going to happen to her?” Sofia wailed, blowing hard into a tissue, taken from a box that had been hastily handed to her at the warehouse.

It had quickly become apparent that whatever day job these men might have they were not in the least bit prepared for the blubbering mess Sofia turned into as soon as she realized what was happening.

“Who kidnaps someone on the day their grandmother dies?” she cried out, gesturing wildly - her face puffy and red. The big man with the beard - the one who had been sitting next to her in the back seat - gave her a disgusted look. 

“You’re the girl who’s been keeping Ramirez up at nights?”

She wanted to take affront at his tone but honestly if it kept him over there and looking disgusted, and not that predatory look he’d had when she was thrown in the car then he could keep right on thinking like that. She hunched over, shaking her shoulders as she sobbed not at all quietly. She would need to figure out a new plan soon - even with everything that had happened she was honestly about to be cried out. 

“Iisus Khristos,” the man muttered, getting up from the table and walking over to where his men were standing. Sofia peeked through her fingers at them, trying to take in the details of where she was.

The warehouse was large, partially filled with nondescript delivery trucks and forklifts. A large bay door opened onto what looked like the Hudson - yes, that was definitely the George Washington bridge with the Heights beyond. New Jersey? Her day was getting worse by the moment.

The big man walked back and Sofia continued to overly pantomime sobbing into her hands, pausing occasionally to rub at her eyes with the back of her fingers or to sniffle into the tissue clutched in one palm.

“Stop it,” he commanded, “You’re definitely faking now.”

She looked up at him, considering, before sighing and leaning back in the chair.

“Do you even have a grandmother?” he asked suspiciously and Sofia felt real tears start to well up again. Seeing them he turned red, “No no. Do _not_ start that again.”

“Who are you?” she asked, wadding the tissue up between her hands.

“I’m a friend of Ramirez’s.” She stared at him and he shifted on his feet as he smirked. “Okay, a business partner.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“I never said we liked each other,” his grin was probably meant to be charming but it failed on almost every level.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He sat at the table across from her, folding his hands across his stomach, “Nevada and I have a deal going down tonight. I’d like to ensure that I get a little more than my fair share of it.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re my little insurance policy. In case things go wrong”

She tried to laugh, but it sounded false even to her, “I don’t know what you think Nevada and I have - but he won’t sacrifice anything for me.”

“I’m betting that he will.”

“He doesn’t care about me.” Her heart nearly broke just to say it.

He leaned toward her, so close she could smell what he had for lunch, and his eyes dipped down her body. She shuddered, “Oh, I think he does.”

And Sofia started praying.

 

* * *

 

When they had shoved her into the small side office it was with an order to “Rough her up - just a little mind you. Make Nevada lose that cool he places so much stock in.” She’d tried to back away from them, but their hands had tore at her shirt, the buttons flying into the corners of the room until it hung open on her. They’d pulled at her hair, pushing her into a bookcase that caught her on the cheek. She pressed her fingers against the spot, wincing a bit. She was going to bruise.

She tried the door handle when they left, but it was locked - and the high window was deadbolted. She searched the room for something she might use as a weapon but the small metal desk was empty, the book shelves devoid of anything but dust. With nothing else to do, she sat on the corner of the desk and waited - clutching her shirt to her.

It grew dark quickly, the only light in the room coming from under the door. She prayed while she waited - prayers for herself, for her Abuelita. But mostly she prayed for Nevada. That he would stay away, that he wouldn’t come tonight to whatever this was. That he would just be _safe_ somewhere. Anywhere but here.

She heard shouting. Raised voices - hard and angry. A gunshot and then more shouting. 

When the door finally opened she blinked against the bright light, barely noticing the man who grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out. There was a line of men in front of her, their backs to her, and just past them she recognized Stefan and Javier as well as others. Many more than her captor had. 

“Pistono you have about thirty seconds-”

She shut her eyes against the sound of his voice. Wishing him anywhere else. When she opened them Nevada was staring at her, his mouth partly open and his eyes wide in surprise.

The big man, Pistono, grabbed her by the arm, pulling her in front of him as he spoke to Nevada. “How about this, you leave now. You leave with your men. And _maybe_ I’ll send your little whore back to you when I’m finished with her.”

“Don’t-“ Sofia didn’t realize she was speaking until she felt the arm jerk her against him. She cried out and saw Nevada’s involuntary step forward, his hands curl into fists. His eyes were on her - taking in her ripped clothes and bruises - and she tried to shrink away from his gaze. 

When he spoke again, his voice was harder than she had ever heard it. “If you think I’m going to give up millions of dollars in product for one girl you’re crazy.”

She couldn’t look at him - she didn’t expect him to say anything else but Jesus she couldn’t watch him say it. Her eyes slid to the floor, a pair of feet and blood. Jesus there was a body there, a gun still tucked into the back of his pants. He hadn’t even had a chance to draw it. Somewhat thankfully, she didn’t recognize him.

“Even this one?” Pistono pulled her back against his body, his tongue running against the side of her face and she flinched away. “Well, if that’s true then I’ll just keep her. For a while anyway. You know as well as anyone what the market’s like right now.”

“Chingate,” Nevada snarled.

Pistono laughed, wrapping his arm around her neck. “No, _fuck you_. I’ve been running drugs in this City since before you first got your dick wet. And you think you’re better than me? Take your men. I’ll send you your girl. And you can get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”

Nevada tilted his head to the side, regarding Pistono with narrowed eyes, “I don’t think I will.”

It happened quickly, she was watching Nevada and saw the flash of metal in the corner of her eye. Suddenly the two men were pointing weapons at each other - Pistono over her shoulder and Nevada’s uncomfortably closely trained on her head. The men between them shuffled nervously.

She made a whimpering noise she hoped no one could hear. They were shouting at each other - the men around them closing ranks somewhat as they hurled insults and threats across the concrete. Pistono started to pull her away, back into the warehouse and Sofia made a decision. Another stupid decision in what was becoming a long list of stupid decisions.

She bit him. On the arm. He yelled, dropping his hold on her and she scrambled away, pulling the gun from the body on the ground and pointing it at Pistono.

“Leave him alone,” she ordered - wishing her voice hadn’t cracked as she did so.

She trained the gun at him, as steady as she could while her hands shook. She could hear Nevada’s voice as though from far away, his own hold on his gun never wavering. Pistono swung wildly towards her - away from Nevada - and she closed her eyes, squeezing her fingers. The sound of the gunshot exploded in the warehouse, echoing off the walls until it sounded like dozens. Or maybe it was dozens. She felt wetness spray across her face.

She opened her eyes, the world was tinged red and she watched through it as Pistono slumped to the floor. Nevada was at her side in an instant, ignoring the commotion around them, taking the gun from her loose grip and passing it to one of his men along with his own. His arms wrapped around her and she sank to her knees on the ground - dragging him down with her.

“I killed him. Oh god I killed him.”

 


	24. Chapter 24

Nevada held her as she fell, the blood on her face and chest smearing against his clothes. She looked horrible, mumbling over and over about killing Pistono - something about blood in her mouth. 

Then she vomited all over his very expensive shoes.

When she leaned back up she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth - stopping to stare at the red splotches on the back. Her breath was shuddering as she met his eyes. He gently pulled her glasses from her face - there was no need to be looking at the world through the blood splatter - and wiped at her with his thumbs but only succeeded in covering her more with the thick liquid. Around them his men were cleaning up, taking care of the remaining Russians who hadn’t been shot.

“I killed him.”

“No.” He cupped her face in his hands, “You didn’t.” Her eyes were glazed over and he didn’t think she’d actually heard him so he pulled her chin up - forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me, you didn’t kill him. _I did_.”

It was a lie, the first he’d ever told her. His own shot had been a moment behind hers, catching Pistono in the shoulder as he had turned. But her shot had hit the man in the throat - causing the spray of blood.

Good fucking riddance.

She blinked at him, “You did?”

“Yes. You don’t need to think about it, you didn’t do anything.” There was no reason in the world that she ever needed to know the truth. He could do that for her. “I’m here,” he pulled her to his chest, “I’m right here.”

Suddenly he couldn’t stop touching her - clutching her to him, kissing her face and mumbling incoherently against her skin. “Nevada?” He didn’t stop, cupping her jaw in one of his large palms instead as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Fuck I thought…” he started but couldn’t complete the sentence. He tried to wipe the blood from her again but only made it worse. It was in his mouth now too and he gagged. “ _Jesus_.” He looked around him, at the blood and the men on the floor. “I need to get you out of here.” 

He lifted her to her feet, pulling the front of her shirt closed and pressing her hands to the cloth. “Stefan is going to take you to the car,” he motioned the man over, “wait there for me.” She nodded dumbly, letting the man lead her out of the warehouse.

 

* * *

 

When he slid into the SUV later it was to see Sofia curled up on her side in the backseat. He gently laid a hand on her ankle and she started, jerking her head up to look at him vacantly before laying back down. Her entire body was shaking.

“What can I do?”

She was silent - then, “I need a shower.”

“Mi casa,” he told Stefan.

She ignored his hands helping her from the car. Walking almost blindly into his building. At his apartment she dropped her shirt on the floor before the door even closed, unbuttoning and leaving her pants on his bedroom floor. He trailed behind her, watching her bra drop as she entered his bathroom. She caught sight of herself in the mirror - pausing for a moment before slipping her underwear off and sliding the glass door to his shower open. 

He heard her startled gasp when the water turned on and hesitated. Should he join her in there? Would she welcome him, push him away? He watched as steam began to curl over the frosted glass and decided to wait. Make himself a drink instead. He used a dishtowel to clean his face and hands, scrubbing at his skin until he felt pink and raw but the cloth came back clean.

She was in there long enough that he began to worry, taking a few steps from the kitchen when he heard the water shut off. He waited and after a few minutes she walked out, wrapped in a towel. Watching her carefully he stayed still as she crossed the apartment to him. The purple bruise on her cheek made his fingers twitch and he reached out to gently touch it. She took the drink from his other hand and downed the last finger of whiskey in one gulp, making a face as she handed it back to him. She turned away from him, back to his bedroom and he watched with reluctant appreciation as the towel dropped to the floor. As though tied to her by an invisible string he followed her to the bed.

She slipped beneath his sheets, curled up on her side and facing away from him. He slowly stripped down and slid into the bed behind her. He tentatively placed a hand on her waist and when she didn’t respond, moved to press his body to her back. She placed her hand over his, interlocking their fingers - and he waited.

 

* * *

 

Nevada awoke in the night to movement next to him. At some point he remembered her turning in his arms, pressing her face to his chest - but now her hands were on him, stroking against his sides. He breathed in the scent of her, lemons overlaid with his own soap. She smelled like him and he smiled at the thought.

He slid his arm against her back, pulling her body closer to his. He lightly trailed his fingers against her skin, listening to her breath hitch in her throat. She lifted her face to his and he gently pressed his lips to hers. The hands pressed to his sides pulled him with her as she rolled away and he moved over her. He settled between her thighs, feeling her part for him and nuzzled against her cheek.

Her fingers stroked against his back and he dragged his lips down her throat. The skin beneath his tongue felt smooth and he reveled in the taste of her. He moved down until he could wrap his tongue around her nipple, his hand cupping her side as he leaned over her. Breathy moans greeted him and he gently pulled on her with his lips. She arched a little under him and he turned to the other breast, laving it with the same attention. He drifted down her stomach, feeling her fingers slide into his hair as he trailed kisses across her hips and between her thighs. 

When he pressed his mouth to the heart of her he heard her gasp. He traced his tongue against her, savoring the taste of her as he did so. Nails pressed into his scalp and he hummed against her in pleasure, feeling the answering arch of her body. He nearly missed the soft tremors of her orgasm - they were quiet, punctuated by her sharp breaths - but they seemed almost endless. He tongued her through it, only pulling away when he felt her fingers pulling against his hair.

He moved over her slowly, feeling the shudders as he pressed her into the sheets. Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his as she reached up and cupped his cheek. When he leaned down to kiss her he slid himself inside her - cherishing the small gasp from between her lips as he did so. His fingers tangled into her hair, his thumbs resting gently against her cheeks as he pressed his body down to hers and slowly rocked his hips into the cradle of her thighs. 

Her eyes sparkled and he kissed each one, nuzzling his nose against hers and carefully grazing his lips along her injured cheek as he moved. Soft lips found his blindly, catching at his skin and he moaned - the low sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room. He thrust into her quicker, pressing kisses into her face as his own pleasure rolled over him.

When his heart beat returned to normal, his breathing regular, his cheek resting on hers, lips grazing her ear - he sighed to himself. Soft puffs of breath ruffled his hair and he pulled back slightly to look at her. Her eyes were shut and when she opened them he saw tears hanging from her eyelashes. He hesitated, “Did I-?”

She shook her head, trying to blink the tears back and he lifted himself away from her. “No!” she cried out, her hands clutching desperately at him and he froze. She grasped at his hair, pulling him back down to her as she wept into his shoulder.

Well, shit.

What was he supposed to do now? Something primal unfurled in his chest as he listened to her quiet sobbing. He knew exactly what he was _going_ to do - he was going to murder whoever was making her cry, assuming they were still alive after today. He wrapped his arms underneath her and rolled them both over so she was laying across his chest. And he waited.

After a several long minutes - that he spent quietly plotting a few different ways he could kill someone and get away with it - Sofia’s sobbing eased into deep steady breaths. Her fingers idly stroked against his skin, alternatively curling into the hairs on his chest. And he waited.

“Nevada?”

“Yes?”

“Are you awake?” He didn’t answer her, she didn’t seem to require one. After a long pause she whispered, “I love you.”

He shut his eyes, the quiet admission causing his heart to do the same erratic skipping thing it did the last time she said that. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You mean besides being kidnapped and seeing someone die in front of me?”

He snorted without thinking, “Is that what’s bothering you?”

She paused. “No.”

He pulled her up against him, lifting her chin with his hand so he could see her face. Her eyes were red, her face a little puffy. She was still beautiful. “What is it amorcita?”

She swallowed, “Abuelita, she’s…” She couldn’t finish, she didn’t need to - her face looked utterly devastated. 

“Oh.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, “Oh Sofia.”

“I love you,” she said it again, looking down at him, “and I don’t ever want to go another day without telling you.”

He kissed her because he didn’t know what else to do. Rolling them again until they were tangled in the sheets, their limbs intertwined and they lay on their sides. He kissed her for hours, fingertips lightly touching skin, breathless sighs rising between them. He mumbled against her neck as he drifted to sleep, her soft sigh in response barely remembered in the morning.


	25. Chapter 25

When Sofia awoke the next morning it was to an empty bed beside her. She sighed, stroking a hand across the sheets and wishing that maybe… wait, was that… bacon?

She grabbed Nevada’s t-shirt from the floor and her underwear from the bathroom before cracking the bedroom door an inch and peeking through the gap. Nevada was humming to himself, a dish towel draped over one bare shoulder. He looked up at the movement of the door and smiled.

“Morning,” he looked so happy she couldn’t help but smile back as she crossed around the high bar and into the kitchen. He was wearing nothing but a pair of sweat pants, his bare feet incongruous with the mental image she had of him. Idly she noted that the tops of his feet were hairy.

“Morning,” it came out more chipper than she had intended but she couldn’t recall ever seeing his chest in daylight before and it was frankly distracting. The bullet wound on his shoulder seemed stark against his skin but he didn’t seem to notice it. She reached out a hand to touch him and he covered it with his own, pressing her fingers over his heart. He set the tongs on the counter and turned, gathering her into his arms and giving her a kiss that seemed to go on forever.

When he finally pulled away he pushed her out of the kitchen with a playful pat on the ass, directing her to sit on the high bar stool on the other side of the counter. 

“I didn’t realize you cooked.”

He gave her an affronted look as he cracked an egg into a small bowl, whisking it with a fork. “Of course I can cook, what kind of man do you think I am?” He poured the eggs into a pan, turning the bacon with his other hand.

“Whatchya making?”

“Frittata.” He waggled his eyebrow at her and she laughed and watched him sprinkle some vegetables and herbs into the pan, deftly flipping it with one quick movement. “Are you impressed?”

She nodded solemnly, “Very.” Another frittata was already sitting to the side, and he pulled two pieces of bacon and set them on the plate even as he slid the frittata in the pan onto another.

“Are you sure you should be cooking bacon without a shirt on?” she had barely finished the question when the grease popped and he yelped out, jumping backwards. “Oh no!” she came around the counter, watching him deftly move the pan and bacon away from the flames. “Are you okay?”

He rubbed a hand across his stomach, “I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?” she bit her lip as she said it, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

He laughed, pressing the plate into her hands and crowding her out of the kitchen as he set two cups of coffee on the high bar, “Maybe later.”

The eggs were good, melt in your mouth good that made Sofia moan and she blushed at the heated look Nevada gave her from the stool next to hers. She swallowed, smiling sideways at him. 

“When do you need to go?” she asked after a few minutes of companionable eating.

He shook his head at her, blowing across his mug of coffee, “I don’t. Not today.”

“Oh.” Her food was gone, and she searched for something to do with her hands. She needed to talk to him but this was just so _nice_. Just a normal breakfast like a real couple. She tapped her fingers on the counter, “Do you have plans?”

The edge of his mouth curled upwards, “A few.” He pushed his plate away, turning and lifting her from her stool to sit astride his lap. His hands were soft on her bare thighs and she twined her arms around his neck as she kissed him. He leaned her against the high counter, slipping a hand under the edge of the shirt.

“Good morning,” he mumbled against her skin, his hand closing over her breast.

“Nevada?”

“Mhmm?” he nuzzled into her neck, licking behind her ear until she gasped. She caught his wrist, pulling his hand away so she could think straight.

“Stop I need to talk to you.” He sighed as he lifted his head, his hands going back to her thighs.

“About what cariño?”

“I thought about this a lot last night.” She took a deep, steadying breath, “I’m moving.”

He froze against her, his eyes rising to meet hers from under his eyebrows. “ _What_?”

“I can’t keep staying in Abuelita’s apartment, I just-“ she hesitated, “can’t.”

“Where are you going?” his voice was hard and it took her a moment to realize why.

“Oh,” she started, “ _oh_. No! I’m not leaving you! I wouldn’t…”

His gaze were considering on her face as he leaned against the low back of the stool. He stared at her for a long time, his eyes unblinking. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, a sigh breaking from between his lips, “Maybe you should.”

It was her turn to freeze, her nails scratching against the back of his neck before she could stop herself. “What?”

“I thought about this a lot last night too and I think it’s better for you. For us.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes and she craned her neck trying force him to look at her, “I don’t understand…”

He set her away from him, walking towards the tall window on the other side of the living area before turning. “For fuck’s sake Sofia, you got kidnapped last night because of me. Those pendejos with their hands on you. You could have been hurt.” His eyes landed on the bruise on her cheek, “You _were_ hurt.”

She followed him, sensing that if she let him continue talking she was going to regret it for the rest of her life. “I won’t leave you.”

“It’ll be better this way.” He rubbed a hand across his chest, “I’ll visit you. As often as I can.”

“You can’t make me go.”

His eyes on hers were harder than she had ever seen and she almost took a step back from him, catching herself in time. “Like hell I can’t,” he growled at her and she shook her head at him.

“You can send me away Nevada - to Miami or Santo Domingo or to the moon for all I care,” she laid one hand on him, felt his skin jerk under her touch. “You can _try_ anyway. But I’ll come back. I’ll always come back. I am _not_ leaving you.”

He spun on her, wrapping his arms so tight to her she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “You don’t understand. You have to go away,” he told her, “you have to go away, be safe somewhere.”

“Oh for-“ she started and pushed against his chest. “No.”

“You _have_ to,” he ordered, “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you. It’s too dangerous for you to be around me.”

“And it’s my choice,” she told him, smiling at him with love in her eyes, “not yours.” He cursed, his mouth opening to argue more but she interrupted him. “Look at it this way, you can send me away somewhere and then have to deal with me doing all kinds of crazy dangerous things to get back. Or admit that I’m right and we can work from there.” She smiled brightly at him - hoping that he was in the mood to be swayed.

He scowled at her before stating, “Then you’re moving in here.”

She blinked, “With you?”

“Of course with- _yes_ with me.”

This didn’t seem like the time to argue so she nodded.

“And you’ll be getting a bodyguard.”

“Now wait a minute,” she pushed at his shoulders, frowning when he refused to budge. _This_ was definitely a time to argue. “Maybe, _maybe_ us moving in together is a good idea but I’m not going to be some kind of prisoner for you. You can’t just tie me up and keep me around for your-“ Oh, his expression had changed drastically when she said that. His tongue licked at his lower lip and he blinked at her slowly - a sly grin spreading across his face. She shook her head, “No. Do no distract me. We are having a conversation like rational adults.” She pressed one finger into his chest to make her point but he caught her wrist, his fingers tight around her. “Nevada…”

His slid a hand down her back, cupping beneath her ass and lifting her to perch on the narrow metal framing that bisected his windows. The shirt was lifted over her head and she gasped as the cold glass pressed against her bare skin.

“Nevada…” she tried, even as she parted her thighs so he could step between them - pinning her body between him and the window.

“Nevada we were arguing, you can’t just-“ she gasped as his tongue ran down her neck, his thumb brushing across her hard nipple.

“Nevada, this is insane,” her voice was breathless, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he licked and sucked at her skin.

“Nevada, people will _see_ us.” 

He lifted his head then, one hand dipping between her thighs as he smirked at her. “Good for them. Maybe they’ll learn something.”


	26. Chapter 26

“Don’t you think it’s a little feminine?” Nevada eyed the blue rug on the floor, the white piping cheerful as it splayed into flowers. Sofia looked up at him from where she was crouched by the sofa.

“I don’t know, maybe?”

They were in her apartment, she had unlocked the door and looked around it like she’d never seen it before. Running fingers along the old pictures on the wall. She was pulling photo albums out from under the furniture, smiling as she found random puzzle pieces. He eyed the furniture, the knick knacks, and tried to imagine them sitting in his gold and leather apartment.

She stood up and crossed her arms, “Are you still sure about this? How about I look for a place?” When he opened his mouth to protest she cut him off, “Near to you! Maybe a couple blocks away?”

He considered it, truth to be told he had wondered at the wisdom of his offer after he had made it. With his work, the hours he kept, the things he did - it probably wasn’t good for her to be living with him at his apartment. But he needed to keep her safe, and there was only one way he could do that. Well, actually…

“There’s nothing to say I won’t still spend the night,” she was still talking, “but we would have our own space. It’ll be good - we can have some time-”

“Move into my building,” he said suddenly, struck by the inspiration and wondering why he hadn’t considered it first.

She cocked her head at him, “I _just_ finished saying why that’s not a good idea.”

He smiled, pulling her over to him and kissing her, “No, cariño - not my apartment. My _building_.”

“Oh,” she paused for a moment, her eyebrows drawing together, “oh. Nevada, not to be… I mean… I don’t think…”

“What is it now?”

She looked away from him, “I don’t think I can _afford_ your building.”

“I know the landlord,” he grinned at her.

“Oh,” she smiled a bit, “really? Is there an apartment available?”

“I can make one be,” the grin turned wolfish as he watched the wheels spin in her head.

“Nevada,” she gave him a stern look, “is it possible that you are your own landlord?”

He shrugged, “It’s possible.”

“Do you _own_ that building?”

He kissed the tip of her nose, “Of course I do. Do you think I’d live somewhere without security?”

“So you own a building,” she asked him slowly, “for _security_?”

He nodded, giving her a perplexed look. Of course he did. It made perfect sense - everyone in the building, from the first floor to the eleventh, was his to the man. Some with their families, most just guys from his crew. A few extended family members.

She was tapping her fingers against his chest now, a thoughtful expression on her face. “What’s the rent like?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, laughing down at her, “I think you’ll find I can be _very_ reasonable.”

 

* * *

 

He carried the heavy duffel down the hallway, a few days worth of clothes in it and what felt like every other thing in the apartment not nailed down. They had argued over it for a while, she wanted to stay at her apartment until he could get a space vacated for her. He had argued, rightly he thought, that the apartment wasn’t safe - everyone in the barrio knew where she lived. In the end, he’d given her two options: pack a bag and stay with him or he was going to move in with her. He and their four bodyguards. She’d grumbled at him, stuffing the bag quickly and shoving it into his hands as she locked the door behind her.

The door down the hall from hers opened and a young guy stuck his head out, “Sofia! I haven’t seen you in ages. How have you been?”

Sofia stepped between Nevada and the other man, glancing over her shoulder at him with a look he couldn’t quite recognize. He tried to place the man’s face as she answered. “I’m okay. Just, in and out ya know? Did you ever call my friend?”

“Chaz? Yeah, she’s great. We’re going out.” The man paused, “Thanks for that. I know we didn’t-“

_The subway station_. Nevada felt his blood run hot and he stepped forward, his body pressing Sofia’s forward as he dropped the bag and moved towards the other man. She dug her feet in, holding him back as she smiled brightly and interrupted whatever the other man was saying. “Nevada I’d like you to meet my neighbor, Santiago. Santiago this is Nevada my-“ she tripped over the word, “boyfriend.”

The other man, Santiago, eyed him and he glared back. He was young, younger than he might have thought before. And fit. And if he was being perfectly honest - handsome. The look Santiago was giving him was considering, his eyes darting between Sofia’s too-bright smile and Nevada’s own hard expression. “Any friend of Sofia’s,” Santiago said after a long, tense moment - holding his hand out.

Nevada stared at it, debating whether or not to break it or shake it. Sofia made the decision for him, leaning into his body and reaching back to take his left hand in hers. She squeezed him and he reluctantly grasped the other man’s hand in his. He gripped a little too tight, pumping it once before letting it go. “Same.”

Sofia was saying something, walking backwards as Nevada picked up the bag and continued to the stairs, dragging her behind him as he did so. He took them quickly, hearing her scramble to keep up with him.

“Nevada,” she pleaded, “Nevada stop.”

He did abruptly, turning to her and pressing her back against the wall, plunging his tongue into her mouth and kissing her until she was breathless. Fingers tangled into his hair and when he pulled away it was only by fractions.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

She gave him a confused looked before blinking, her eyes going soft. “I love you.”

He kissed her again, hard. When he moved away she whispered it without prompting. “I love you.”

“Good,” he told her, moving ahead of her down the stairs and out of the building. He tossed the bag into the dark town car, motioning his two men into the front of the vehicle as Sofia climbed inside. He followed her, slamming the door behind him and pressing the button that raised the partition. As soon as they were moving he pulled her to him, laying her down in the backseat so he could cover her with his body.

“I love you.”

She was whispering it to him, covering his face in kisses as he worked his fingers against her clothes, pushing and pulling at her jeans until they were around her thighs. His seeking fingers found her wetness - slicking through before plunging inside her. Her back arched of the seat, nearly unsettling him as he sucked on her neck.

“Nevada,” the word came on a breathy sigh, her thighs clenching around his hand but that was not what he wanted.

“Say it,” he told her again, cupping his other hand around her face.

“I love you,” the last word broke on a gasp as she came underneath him. He petted her as she came down, rubbing his cheek to hers.

“You’re mine,” he said quietly after a few moments, his hand resting on her stomach. 

She nodded up at him slowly, “Always.”

Always. That had a nice ring to it.

 


	27. Chapter 27

She was backing away from the door of the restaurant, shaking her head at him and laughing.

“One bad call and the Yankees had that game _stolen_ from them. Ump was blind!”

Nevada smiled, watching her face light up as she talked. He wasn’t a baseball fan, liked the hard-hittedness of football better, but she looked so beautiful and animated that he’d nodded along through lunch as she told him a point by point detailing of the game the night before. They were waiting for the last bit of furniture to be moved into her new apartment - 11A, directly below his own. They’d argued about that, but he’d told her the truth, it was the closest apartment to his with only one person living in it. What he didn’t mention was the long line of people who would be shifting lodging over the next few weeks to make room for the change, nor did he mention the four security details on the second floor who would now be rooming together despite long protests. Not to him of course. No one protested things to him.

She didn’t notice the kid walking by on the street and before Nevada could warn her she tripped over him, sending her stumbling into a pole and knocking the kid down to the pavement.

“Watch where you’re fucking going bitch,” the kid snapped, reaching for the device that had tumbled out of his hand. He cursed, “You broke my phone.” Pushing himself to his feet, he glared at her and did not seem to notice the tightening circle of men around them. “Do you hear me? What are you going to do about this?” He waved the phone at her, stopping when he caught a good look at her face.

He finally looked around. Nevada’s men had him cornered on the sidewalk, ringing him and the couple so there was no escape. Nevada crossed to Sofia, placing a hand under her arm and leaning into her. “Are you okay cariño?”

She nodded at him before turning to the kid, “I am so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“Fuck me, it’s cool,” the kid said, holding his hands up in front of him, “you just go right on doing what you doing. It was my fault.”

She blinked at him, then at Nevada’s hard expression. “Come on, let’s just go. It was an accident.” She tugged on his arm but he didn’t budge.

“Apologize.” Nevada told the kid, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry I ran into you,” he said quickly and Nevada shook his head.

“No, apologize for what you called her.”

The kid swallowed, “I’m sorry I called you a b-“ he paused, his eyes on Nevada. “A bitch.”

“And if you ever see her again?” Sofia rolled her eyes at him, hiding an exasperated smile at his tone. Okay, so he _was_ enjoying this just a little bit.

“Piss on me if I’m going to fuck with La Verdugo,” the kid answered, gesturing to Sofia.

“What did you just call me?” her head snapped around and she looked so shocked that Nevada couldn’t help the laugh that burst from him.

The kid took a step back from her, his hands coming up defensively, “That’s what everyone is calling you - it’s not just me I swear. Please don’t hurt me.”

“La Verdugo,” Nevada chuckled, stifling it when she turned on him with wide, angry eyes.

“This is _not_ funny,” she told him sternly, “and it doesn’t even make grammatical sense.”

He howled at that, he couldn’t help it. Bending over at the waist until tears ran from his eyes. He clutched at his sides, not caring that he must look like a fool. Wiping at his face with the back of one hand he met her eyes, but her stormy expression sent him off into gales of laughter again. “What bothers you more?” he asked after he got control of himself. “That they’re calling you that or that es malo español?”

Her jaw was clenched, her lips pursed and she folded her arms under her breasts - refusing to meet his eyes. She turned on the kid, “Do you happen to know _why_ people are calling me that?”

The kid’s eyes were a little wild, “You killed three guys just this _week_. They say pissing you off is like signing your own death certificate.”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah, they say you shot a couple of guys over in Jersey,” she started to protest but he was talking too fast, “but then they say you prefer to beat people to death. With a bat.”

Her eyes flew to Nevada’s, “That guy _died_?”

He shook his head, then changed it to a slight reluctant nod. “Well, yes - but technically _you_ didn’t kill him.”

The kid looked curious, leaning in a bit, “The one you dumped in the river?”

“I did _what?_ ”

Nevada caught on before she did, snorting as he said, “From the bar. That fucker who drugged you.”

“Oh my god, I didn’t even touch that guy. _You did_.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “What is _happening_ to my life?”

He slipped his arm around her waist, ignoring the stiffness in her body as he pressed his lips to her forehead, “My little verdugo - I like that.” She elbowed his side and he smiled at her, “People are going to be more scared of you than they are of me.”

She dropped her hands, staring up at him angrily, “I used to be a _good person_.”

“You _are_ ,” he was still smiling and he knew it was making her even more mad at him but he didn’t care. Her glasses were askew on her nose and he reached up to fix them. “You are, I think, the very best,” he waited for her answering half of a smile before finishing, “at murdering people.”

She shoved him hard, turning on one heel and stalking away from him, pushing through the ring of men like they weren’t there.

“Cariño come back!” he called out to her retreating form, trying to keep the laughter from his voice. “It’s not safe…” he tried to stop but couldn’t help himself, “…with you out there.”

Sofia told him to do something he was pretty sure wasn’t physically possible, not bothering to turn around, and he motioned for Stefan to follow her. “Call me when she’s cooled down.”

Stefan nodded, jogging down and out of sight around the corner. Nevada turned to the kid trying to edge away from the group, “Now, how about you and I talk about manners a bit eh mijo?”

 

* * *

 

The door to the apartment was standing open and he watched as Sofia unsuccessfully shoved at couch on the living room floor. She was muttering to herself darkly and he was pretty sure he heard his name at least once.

“Sofia?”

She glanced up at him, glaring before she pushed at the couch with her back, her feet slipping against the carpet.

“Do you need help?”

She barely let him finish the sentence before abruptly stating, “No.”

He watched her struggle, the couch barely moving inches as she tried to get purchase on the floors. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her voice was forceful but a moment later her feet slipped from under her and she collapsed onto the carpet. He started to move towards her, stopping only when she glared at him angrily from underneath the long hair falling across her face.

“Are you _really_ sure?”

She huffed at him, the hair puffing outwards as she did so and he laughed, crossing the room and squatting next to her to brush the long strands out of her face. “Amorcita, why are you so mad? So a few idiotas in the barrio think you’re dangerous. So what? It’s better - means they’ll leave you alone. I won’t have to worry about you so much.”

“I know,” she sighed, resting her head on her knees, “but everything feels like it’s just spiraling out of control so _fast_. First abuelita, then the warehouse, now moving here. Everyone in the neighborhood thinks I’m some kind of monster…”

He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the silky softness slip across his skin. “What can we do?” he asked her and when she didn’t respond he asked again, “What can we do to make you feel better?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “What do normal people do?”

He laughed at that and she looked up at him confused. “Cariño, how in the hell would I know?”

She stared at him and then started laughing, leaning against his knee as she wrapped an arm around his leg. He smiled at her while she giggled until she looked up at him, the light in her eyes so warm he leaned into it. “Order take out? Watch a movie?”

He half-smiled, “I think I can arrange that.”

 


	28. Chapter 28

It took three separate phone calls to get everything arranged, five once he factored in her refusal to leave her new apartment. She worked around him, unpacking boxes and ineffectually pushing at furniture until she gave up and finally asked for his help. He draped his coat over her high bar and together they moved her couch and chairs. And then they had to move them again because she didn’t like how they looked. He refrained from commenting - his gift to her.

She was sitting on the floor by a brand new TV, delivered only ten minutes before, a mess of cables around her, when a knock came at her front door. He answered it, taking the plastic bag from the man standing there. He motioned the man away with a tilt of his head before shutting the door and setting everything down on the floor next to a newly procured stack of DVDs.

“Do you-“

Her triumphant shout cut him and off he watched the logo for the DVD player bounce across the screen. “Ha!” she crowed, turning to him and grabbing his face for a quick kiss. “What do you want to watch?”

He gave her a bemused smile as she let him go, “You pick.” He moved the food to a small table in front of the couch, settling down on one end and unpacking the containers. He’d taken a guess on what ‘normal’ take-out was and the variety of noodles alone was daunting.

“Die Hard, Seven Samurai, First Blood, Face Off, Lethal Weapon…” she looked up at him with one raised eyebrow, “who did you get these from?” She didn’t wait for the answer, plucking one at random and popping it into the player. She joined him on the couch, crossing her legs and pulling one of the little cartons to her.

“What did you pick?”

She slurped her noodles, eyes wide as she licked her lips. “Something called Alien?”

Nevada tried to watch the movie, he really did. But she was too distracting next to him. He had swung an arm across the back of the couch, thinking he’d pull her close but she’d jumped forward at one early scene, gasping loudly. He’d tried again, but she just couldn’t seem to sit still. She was about a hundred times more entertaining than the movie in his opinion.

Hugging a pillow to her chest, she alternated between watching the screen and burying her face, her low moans of “No, no no,” making him chuckle. When she started to make high-pitched keening noises into the fabric, and hadn’t even looked at the screen in five minutes, he shut it off. Ignoring her protest he pulled her over the couch so she sprawled across him, dipping his head and kissing her until she was squirming against his body.

“I was watching that,” she said breathlessly when he let her up.

“No you weren’t.”

She didn’t argue, shifting against him until she straddled his hips - smiling when he rocked his body up against her. “Well, if we’re not going to watch a movie, what do you want to do?” she asked playfully. He held her hips, watching her face as an idea occurred to him.

“What if tonight I wanted La Verdugo?”

She froze, staring down at him in disbelief, “What?”

He licked his lips, staring at her breasts against her shirt, “La Verdugo, my very own dangerous assassin. What would you do?”

She blinked, “I don’t know.”

“Think about it,” he reached up to cup her breast and she swatted him away. 

He must have looked annoyed because her face took on a mischievous cast as she told him, “Well, for one you don’t get to touch her without permission.”

“Oh?” he interlocked his fingers behind his head, watching the thoughtful expression on her face. “And what else?”

She hesitated, watching him through lowered lashes, “I think maybe she takes things.”

His cock grew hard under her and he groaned, “Like what?”

“Whatever she wants,” she sighed, sinking down against him.

“You, cariño,” he corrected, “what _you_ want.”

She pinched his thigh, smiling when he jumped, “I think you should call me something else don’t you?” She tapped a finger against her lower lip. “And if you keep calling me La Verdugo I’m probably going to slap you.”

That didn’t sound anywhere near as awful as she meant it to - but he filed it away for future reference. He didn’t want to push her _too_ far outside her comfort zone. Finally, she leaned down to him, her lips grazing his as she whispered “Amante.” It was half a question and he groaned as he replied, “ _Amante._ ”

She laughed, the sound delightful as she pulled away from him. Her fingers slid inside his shirt, and she made eye contact for a moment before abruptly pulling the edges apart. He heard buttons flying but he ignored them - watching her look at him with an anxious expression.

He raised an eyebrow, “Amante what do you want?” She smiled, the action chasing the worry from her eyes. She leaned down, her lips pressing to the center of his chest, one of her hands on each of his nipples as she gently rolled them between her fingers.

“Don’t move,” she ordered, licking at his skin. She pulled at his hairs with her teeth, drawing a low grunt from his lips and a pleased little mewl from her. Lips and tongue traced patterns on his skin and he had to grip against the back of his own head to keep himself from gripping hers. When she traced her tongue along the edge of his pants he thrust his hips upwards - listening to the tsking noise she made at him. 

She was sitting on his thighs, her fingers gently pulling against his pants, unbuckling his belt and lowering the zipper with a smooth, slow motion. His breath hitched when she rubbed him through his underwear.

“Touch yourself,” the command caught him by surprise, his eyes flying to meet hers. She look at him hungrily, her hand barely working over him as he reached down and fisted his cock. He groaned, watching as she lowered the fabric so she could see him.

He hadn’t done this before. Oh, he’d done this _type_ of thing, usually as a prelude to a blowjob or fucking. Just a few quick strokes before going on to better things. But she was watching him, watching his hand as he stroked himself. Her lips parted and wet, her chest rising and falling in short pants.

Fuck she looked hot as hell. He felt the first drops of precum escape from him and he stared at her lips as he quickened his pace. She pulled her shirt over her head, the light blue of her bra vivid against her skin. He groaned.

“Are you going to come?”

He nodded, closing his eyes and gasping out a “Yes.”

“Stop.”

He let himself go abruptly, not trusting himself to touch his cock and not finish. He felt her shift, then her hot mouth closed over the head of him and he shouted, thrusting forward as he buried his hands in her hair. She licked at him, swirling her tongue around him before pulling away.

He opened his eyes to see her staring down at him with an unreadable expression. “I thought I told you not to move?”

He cursed inwardly, debating ending the game and just fucking her on the couch. She twisted her loose hair up onto her head, using a spare set of chopsticks from the table to pin it in place. Pushing her glasses back up her nose she raised an eyebrow and he suddenly flashed back to every naughty librarian fantasy he had ever had. Sister Mary Margaret in seventh grade. Ms Soto at the youth center when he was sixteen. Fuck, every time he saw a woman in a prim button up shirt and knee length skirt he wondered what they were hiding under there.

Apparently, a sky blue bra and a stern expression.

“I’m sorry Amante,” he told her, moving his hands back behind his head. She stopped him with a curt wave, sliding off of him and the couch and pulling her pants off. She stood tall in front of him, her eyes following his body from his cock to his face. She opened her mouth once, twice, swallowing hard before saying, “I want you to-“ She closed her eyes and he grinned, enjoying how hard it was for her to say the words. She set her shoulders, staring down her nose at him, “I want you to go down on me. No.” She held a hand up and smiled to herself, “You _will_ go down on me.”

He was off the couch in a flash, his hands cupping her ass as he pressed his mouth to the silky fabric covering her pussy. She was wet already, he could feel it through her panties. He tongued her roughly, pressing the fabric inward until he rubbed her clit through it and reveling in the intake of air she made, her hands covering his wrists.

“No,” she told him, “no hands.” When he gave her a questioning look she pushed his wrists away, “Behind you back.”

Well, alright, fine, if that’s what she wanted. He nuzzled her through the fabric again, biting at it until he could press his tongue to her skin. The taste of her filled him, overwhelming his senses as he licked at her. He felt hands sliding into his hair, pressing him closer and he sucked on her skin. He used his nose to hold her panties out of the way, then pulled her clit between his lips and began to suck on it. 

“ _Nevada_.”

It was music to his ears. The carpet scratched at his knees, his shoulders cramping from how hard he was clenching his fists behind his back, and he knew his cock was dripping onto the floor. But when he heard her cry out for him, her thighs shaking against his cheeks, he told himself he’d be happy to stay there forever.

She collapsed down against him, her body sliding down his face and chest until she was straddled across his lap. Her wet pussy rubbed against his cock and he couldn’t help the movement of his hips as he sought her entrance. Face pressed to his shoulder, she smoothed a hand into his hair and pulled his head back to look at her.

“Is there something you wanted?”

She had about ten seconds to start fucking him or he was going to take matters into his own hands but he didn’t tell her that, saying instead, “Please fuck me Amante.”

Her smile was bright, her pussy hot as she rocked her hips in time with him. His cock slid against her, so close and yet so far from what he wanted. Her hand on him was nearly his undoing, and the hot, wet heat of her cunt enveloping him was even worse. He bit his lip, clenching his hands as tight as he could as she sank down to him.

She made a quiet squeaking noise when he hit home and he tried not to laugh. She was trying so hard to be the one in control and he loved every moment of it. She rocked against his body, her hands on his neck as she looked down at him, her glasses partially obscuring her expression. “Yes Amante,” he groaned, thrusting up to meet her and she gasped. He wondered if she had another one in her, and even more so - could he get her there without using his hands?

He had purpose now, holding onto his control as he watched the muscles on her face twitch. Her thighs tightened on his and he thrust harder, meeting her hips with a harsh smacking noise and sending a prayer to whichever Saint answered sex requests that she might…

She screamed, loud and long and his hoarse shout echoed with hers as he came. She held him to her as her pleasure rolled through her body, her inner muscles squeezing his cock`, and he closed his eyes and enjoyed every moment. When he finally caught his breath he rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders, picking her up and walking to the bedroom. She made a sleepy protest and he realized that while the bed was put together, the mattress was elsewhere in the room. He sighed, returning to the couch and laying her down before stretching out behind her and yawning.

She cuddled close to him and he gently removed the sticks from her hair, the glasses from her face. He cupped his hand against her back and pulled her body to his, burying his face into her neck and whispering as he fell asleep. 

 


	29. Chapter 29

“What I’m saying is - if you’re going to be a teacher you should get some of those little shoes with the buckles on them.”

Sofia rolled her eyes, nuzzling against his neck, “Are the shoes for me or for you?”

Nevada licked at her ear, “I don’t see any reason why they can’t be for both."

They were cuddled on his couch, her sitting across his lap. It had started as a joke, him pulling her across him so he could tickle at her sides but they quickly moved on to kissing and touching. The bright light of the late summer evening poured through the apartment and she thought idly that she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Sofia pushed gently on his chest. “Dinner is going to burn if you don’t let me get up,” she told him.

Nevada continued to suck at her neck, tightening his hold on her which was pretty much the opposite of what she wanted him to do. Well, _needed_ him to do.

She squirmed in his lap, if he messed up her dinner she was going to make him take her out somewhere. Somewhere expensive. When she told him as much he laughed, setting her on her feet and slapping her ass.

“You know I’ll take you anywhere.”

She smiled as she entered the small kitchen, doing a quick check of the pots and pans bubbling away happily. “Lechón, frijoles y arroz.” She announced to him happily, pleased with how everything looked. 

“You are too good to me cariño.” She smiled at him, throwing a dishtowel over her shoulder and pulling plates down from his cabinets. 

She barely heard him when he quietly said, “I love you.”

“What?” She shouted from the kitchen, leaning down into the refrigerator.

It was quiet in the other room, not the companionable silence they sometimes sat in but a tense quiet that made her heart start to beat a little faster. 

“I said I love you.”

She popped her head up, staring at him over the kitchen bar. “I love you too.” She smiled at him brightly, eyes glancing down to the oven timer.

Grunting, he turned away from her to stare out the window. She raised her eyebrow, regarding him quizzically. He was upset. For reasons known only to himself, but he was definitely upset about something. Setting down the cloth she was holding she crossed the room to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and gently tried to turn him to her, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He huffed, refusing to move. 

“Nevada?” She watched a muscle in his jaw twitch and tried to think about what might have happened to make him mad. “I was kidding, about going out. We don’t-“

He stopped her, “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I expected more, something bigger.” He made an expansive gesture with his hands but she wasn’t sure what he was trying to mime. “This is the first time I’ve said it, I don’t know. I just expected a different reaction.”

“The first time you’ve said what?”

He glanced back at her, then to the window again. “I love you,” the words were barely audible.

She smiled softly, laughing a bit but trying to suppress it when she saw how his eyebrows snapped together. She slipped her hands around his waist from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Mi amor, my darling, my Nevada - you tell me every night.”

He turned his head to her sharply, his nose brushing against her hair, “What?”

She squeezed him, sliding one hand up to cover his heart, “Every night, before you fall asleep, you kiss me and whisper ‘ _Te amo Sofia’_. You’ve done it ever since that night at the warehouse.” She kissed his neck, “You didn’t know?”

He grunted, covering her hand with his and leaning his forehead down to rest against hers. But she could see his small smile and she rubbed her nose against his.

“Y te amo Nevada.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Fin~
> 
>  
> 
> Note on the title: Comes from an old saying 'Debt makes promises, and promises make debt'.
> 
> Thank you all very much for your kind words and kudos. If you have a moment leave a quick note for me below. I am seriously considering re-working this into a full-length book (probably with changed names) so feedback is super welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> More stories by brandyllyn:  
> 'Further on the Edge' - Nevada meets a woman who gives him a run for his money. But she's not quite what she presents herself to him... (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Let Live' - If he was being honest with himself, this woman scared the shit out of him (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Half Empty' - Sometimes your body is the only thing you have left to negotiate with. (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Bought and Paid For...' - To avoid going to a gala alone, Frederick Chilton procures the services of an escort. (Hannibal)  
> 'Time's Fool' - Chilton is confronted with a woman from his past, but will their unfinished business ruin him or save him? (Hannibal)  
> 'Good Man Feelin' Bad' - Rafael Barba meets an interesting woman at a gala. (Law & Order: SVU)


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